


Life Itself

by Ebaki



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alien Invasion, Alternate Universe, Background Relationships, Dystopia, Everyone Needs A Hug, F/F, F/M, M/M, Minor Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Minor Wanda Maximoff/Vision, No Infinity War, OC and team centric, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Wanda Maximoff Needs a Hug, don't worry i havent forgotten about the others, is it a spoiler to say that no, most other people will appear later on, the avengers arent dead, the world has ended
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-25
Updated: 2018-12-14
Packaged: 2019-08-29 04:37:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 22,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16737217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ebaki/pseuds/Ebaki
Summary: The creatures didn’t have a name. At least, no one knew it if they did. Not a single person had made contact with the beings that had taken over the whole world in a day, and they were all too afraid to attempt it.The war was over as quickly as it had begun. In fact, there were many people who would argue that there had never even been a war in the first place.The Avengers, as they had been called, were dead. Everyone had seen it. The people that the world had forced into hiding had leapt into the fray to protect the people that had turned their backs on them, all guns blazing, and had been destroyed in exactly 3 hours, 13 minutes.There was no one left standing to save them... except...





	1. Leave the Horror Here

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so, this story is NOT canon-compliant. No Infinity War. Set after Civil War, but with a few differences that will be explained later on. This chapter is INCREDIBLY short. They will be longer in future; think of this as more of an intro/prologue. Hope y'all enjoy! 
> 
> Chapter 1 Title from Spanish Sahara by Foals

The creatures didn’t have a name. At least, no one knew it if they did. Not a single person had made contact with the beings that had taken over the whole world in a day, and they were all too afraid to attempt it. 

The war was over as quickly as it had begun. In fact, there were many people who would argue that there had never even been a war in the first place. In under twelve minutes, the capital cities of the USA, Russia and China had been levelled by nuclear weapons, and the rest of the world had surrendered without even raising a single weapon to resist their newfound oppressors. Some called it the Day of Silence, because no one had spoken a word against the creatures that threatened their existence, instead favouring to roll over and show their bellies to the enemy after the three major world powers had been taken down without warning. 

Well, that’s technically not true. There was some resistance, but it was snuffed out so quickly that it was hardly even acknowledged. The Avengers, as they had been called, were dead. Everyone had seen it. The people that the world had forced into hiding had leapt into the fray to protect the people that had turned their backs on them, all guns blazing, and had been destroyed in exactly 3 hours, 13 minutes. The battle was spectacular, really. A true show of the desperation of man. They’d been zapped out of existence before their very eyes. And after that, the world had fallen; too afraid of what might happen if they resisted.

After a while, though, the creatures, named by the people the ‘Cerberus’, had begun to lose their grip of fear.

It’s quite a funny thing, really. People so quickly become desensitized to their fear of something after their exposure to it for long enough. People began stepping forward, trying to take back the lives that had been lost. Enhanced individuals from across the globe had come out of hiding, just to go down in a blaze of short-lived fury. What was even funnier, though, was that the normal people who had been so afraid of the enhanced individuals that they had effectively destroyed The Avengers’ influence in the first place, were begging for more enhanced people to throw themselves on top of the enemy for them, because they were the only ones ‘capable’ of fighting against the Cerberus.

Eventually, the novel idea of ‘fighting back’ wore off, and people stopped trying. 

And the world was silent once again.

-+-

A biting wind blew through the trees, rustling the browning leaves above the small gathering of people, who were huddled together around a quivering, dying fire; the stars glittering coldly in the sky overhead. A deep pool of water shimmered next to them, illuminated by the shine of the moon gleaming in the obsidian sky. The galaxy around them was so much more defined now that the electricity had disappeared, and the artificial lights had all died. 

The people sat, whispering hushed words between them on the rocky shore. Around them, the trees whispered back unintelligibly, the breeze flowing through the withered branches. Sitting apart from them was a young woman with shoulder length, brown hair and round, smooth features. She gazed into the pool of water, watching the surface ripple, blurring the stars reflected inside it. 

Before her, a young man paced agitatedly on the shore of the pool, but his feet did not shift the stones. Starry, glimmering light emanated from him, and he muttered and cursed angrily as he walked, his blond hair bouncing slightly as he walked. The woman glowed with a similar light to the young man, but his emotions were making him glow brighter than her. He was getting far too worked up for her liking, but she didn’t interrupt his angry monologue, too busy thinking about the girl and the future. The people behind them couldn’t hear them anyway.

“We have to do something,” The man hissed, stalking across the stones in a tight circle. He never was one for sitting still. “Look at them!” He jerked his head over to the group of people around the fire. “They’ve given in! We need to tell her. Now.”

This caught the woman’s attention. 

“We can’t yet, Pietro,” she warned, shifting to face the young man. “She is too young right now. We will tell her, and soon, but we can’t risk her exposing herself yet.”

“She’s manifesting already, Peggy!” Pietro argued, fixing her with his icy blue gaze. “It is only a matter of time before she exposes herself! We need to tell her now. We might be able to protect her.”

Peggy snorted. “Yeah, protect her. What will happen when she tells someone that she can see people that aren’t there that tell her the Avengers are still alive, hm?”

“It is still safer than letting her go without any knowledge of them,” Pietro snapped. “If she gets too much older, she might think she is going crazy and tell them the exact same thing. It might be easier for us to introduce ourselves to her when she is younger and slightly more impressionable.”

“You mean ‘vulnerable’.” Peggy corrected. “She is only sixteen. Let her live a little while longer without the truth. We still don’t know if she even wants to do this. She might just want to live her life hiding her powers. We can’t impose our will onto her just yet.”

“She is the only one we can tell! Sorry, but I don’t think it really matters what she wants; if she’s the only one we can communicate with, then it is her duty to –“

“No!” Peggy snapped, cutting him off. “I know you worry about your sister; I worry for Steve, too. But it is too early. I promise we will tell her soon. But not yet.” She stood up herself and met his anxious eyes with her own, calmer ones. “We’ll get them back.” She promised softly.

Pietro looked away, glaring at the pool angrily. Suddenly, his shoulders sagged and began to walk wearily towards the people huddled around the firelight. “I just want her to be safe.” He rasped. “If this girl is the only way for her to be safe, then so be it.”

Peggy followed him quietly, coming to a stand beside him, where they were positioned directly behind the girl with auburn hair. The one they had been watching over for months. The last enhanced individual they knew of, that hadn’t been zapped away like the Avengers. The last person alive that could see them. Peggy laid her hand lightly on Pietro’s shoulder.

“I know Pietro. I know. It's almost time. I promise.”


	2. Come and Fly Away With Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pietro and Peggy are annoying! Who is the mystery girl from before? Find out! The girl does a thing!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is from Fly Away by TheFatRat

I slip through the trees quietly; two rabbits, a mourning dove, some kind of pigeon and a wood duck in a bag in my right hand and a bow in my left, with a quiver of arrows slung over one shoulder. It’s been a good day. I had caught well over her fair share of food before noon, and it’s a surprisingly warm and bright sunny day out. It’s a rare occurrence in the middle of fall in Canada, and as shrivelled leaves crunch beneath my boots, I revel in the heat that sinks into my bones, knowing I would have to make the most out of it with my time off back at base camp. Chances were that such a pleasant day would not happen again in a while.

Birds chirp loudly in the trees around me, apparently sharing my sentiment. I hadn’t seen so many of them this close to camp in a long time. They are too small to be worth catching, but their songs send a trill of warmth up my spine; it is always a pleasant sound for me to hear. I mimic it, whistling softly under my breath as I trot through the woods.

A light breeze flows through the trees around me. Not too cold, but chilly enough to make sure I don’t sweat. It is my favourite temperature; warm, but not stifling. I slow my steps to appreciate it more before I get back to base camp.

As if reading my thoughts, the young man that had been walking behind me speaks up, his voice sounding far too loud in the otherwise relatively quiet forest. But it doesn’t matter, I guess. I am the only one who can hear him anyway.

“What are you going to do once you return to base camp, June?” He asks in his slightly accented voice, and I sigh, biting back a grumble of irritation.

“I don’t know.” I reply, not really in any mood to speak to him. Not now, anyway. I just want to have a normal day out, for once in my life, without having to talk to the ghost man. But he is insistent. Most of the time. And although I would never admit it, I kind of enjoy his company. Sometimes.

This, however, was not one of those times.

“Be quiet, Pietro. She doesn’t want to talk to you.” The woman’s voice sounds nearby, sounding lightly teasing, and I feel the corner of my lip twitch upwards in a smirk. Peggy is here too, it seems. Good. He is the only one who can keep Pietro in check. With her around, I might have a shot at some peace and quiet. Unless they start arguing. Again. In that case, my best shot at silence is stuffing leaves in my ears, but they’re hard to get out.

The two of them are nice enough, if not sometimes mildly annoying in their incessant chatter. But their voices are a comfort to me. They are the only ones who really spend time around me outside of camp. Otherwise I’m pretty lonely. Laura and her kids are nice, sure, but they don’t come hunting. The kids won’t be out hunting with me for a little while longer, too. They’re just too young. And I guess Leah and Ben are nice, too. But again, I only see them around camp. Otherwise I’m pretty much alone.

Well, not alone of course. I always have Peggy and Pietro.

I don’t know why they follow me so much. They’d followed me around every single day for the better half of a year, after suddenly introducing themselves as ‘Peggy Carter’ and ‘Pietro Maximoff’ when I was seventeen years old. According to them, though, they’d been following me for much longer than 8 months; I just hadn’t been able to see them yet. Which, although they’d tried to calm me down with that fact, had just made me feel even more creeped out. I mean, it isn’t exactly reassuring to know that I’d been stalked for almost a year by dead people. But I’d gotten used to their presence. In fact, I almost missed them when they weren’t around. But again, I’d never admit that.

At first, I thought I’d gone mad. How else could I explain the people that I could see and hear but that no one else could? I hadn’t told anyone else, though. I couldn’t. The mentally ill didn’t last very long, particularly not ones that had gone full-blown crazy. Not in this freaking day and age. Anyone too weak or considered a danger wasn’t allowed to stay, a lot of the time. It was simply too hard for the survival of the others. And since we all basically follow the utilitarianist views on life now, the survival of many is more important than the safety of one, so it’s better I keep quiet.

So I’d tried to keep my ghosts a secret, at first. Tried ignoring them, too. But being around Pietro… Let’s just say he’s not that easy to ignore. But if I truly was going mad, I certainly wasn’t going to let anyone know.

As time went on, though, more and more things that they said had begun to make more sense than just me ‘going mad’. Or perhaps I had just descended so far into insanity that fantasy began to make more sense than reality. I don’t really know and I don’t really care. Apparently crazy people don’t know they were crazy. So if I truly was insane, I probably wouldn’t question anything, right? Besides, I just had a feeling that the ghosts were real. Anything was possible for me, I had come to realise.

Particularly after my first transmutation experience.

I hum softly, my mind wandering back to that fateful summers day (how cliché) that I had first begun to ‘manifest in physical form’, as Peggy had explained. It was actually while I’d been out hunting on a day much like today, but a few months earlier, when I’d spotted a small herd of elk roaming through the forest. I had known that such a big catch would be very beneficial to the group, and would feed well over half of our growing population.

So I’d tracked and stalked them carefully, moving like a shadow in the forest, but they were standing clustered together on a wide stretch of pebbles next to an equally wide and deep river, and I knew it was far to exposed for me to approach them any more without scaring them off. The ghosts were standing behind me, I knew, and I ignored them as usual. As best I could, anyway. They whispered and muttered behind me. Constantly.

While I’d lingered in the treeline, waiting for an unsuspecting elk to wander closer for me to make a shot with my throwing knife (I wasn’t as proficient with a bow and arrow back then), the transmutation had occurred. Frustrated with my inability to hide on the exposed shore, I’d mused that if she could somehow become one of the elk and blend in, I’d be able to get close enough to catch one of them, when antlers had suddenly sprouted from my head.

It hadn’t hurt, but it had been so startling that I had screamed and leapt backwards, scaring the elk off with their own barks of fear and completely ruining my chances of catching one. A waste of a day’s hunting, really. After that, I’d reached up slowly to touch the branch-like extremities, and had let out a choked gasp when they felt solid. I had been so frightened that I had bolted in the direction of base camp, but my antlers had quickly gotten tangled in the low-hanging branches of one of the saplings near me, and I was quickly immobilised.

Struggling desperately to free myself, Pietro and Peggy had approached me once again. I could feel their amusement crackling off them, and felt a flash of fury toward the apparitions.

“Shut up,” I had snarled at them, trying to reach up and yank the antlers out of the bendy, young branches of the sapling, reminded dimly that they were, in fact real, and were actually attached to my head.

“We did not say anything,” Pietro replied through a snigger.

Peggy elbowed him and turned back to me, sympathy shining in her bright eyes. “She’s frightened, Pietro,” she rebuked him, flashing a glare at the young man before returning her gaze to me. “Calm down. You’re finally manifesting your powers of transmutation physically. You’ll have to learn to control them, you know, or you’ll get caught by the Cerberus.”

I grunted and yanked myself backward again, hearing the thin branches begin to splinter. “Is that supposed to calm me down?” I spat, finally tearing myself free of the tree and swinging around to glare at the ghostly woman, leaves fluttering down around my head. Peggy returned my gaze unflinchingly.

“Calm down. They’ll go away if you’re calm.” She repeated softly. “Breathe in… and out.”

“Will YOU go away if I’m calm?” I snapped. As irritated as I was with the spirits that stood before me, I knew that I should probably listen to their words, and slowly began breathing in and out evenly, trying to slow my racing heart. Slowly, the antlers began retreating back into my skull, and apart from a dull throb in my head from pulling on them, I soon couldn’t feel any trace of them remaining.

Heaving a sigh of relief, I leaned back so that I was leaning on a sturdy tree trunk for support, and lifted my head to look at the ghosts. “You’re real, aren’t you?” I’d breathed, staring at their shimmery, pale forms. They couldn’t be real. Could they? But it certainly would explain the pangs I got in my stomach every time I felt them near me. That wasn’t coincidence, surely.

“You did not know?” Pietro snorted, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning on his right foot, glaring at me irritably.

Ignoring his scornful tone, I instead blinked at Peggy warily. “What just happened to me?”

“It’s just like I said. Your powers are manifesting.”

“Powers?” I repeated sceptically, reaching up to touch my head where the antlers had been.

Peggy nodded. “Yes. You will have to learn how to control them so that you can remain hidden.”

I took another deep, wavering breath, pressing the heels of my hands into my eyes. Okay. Too much for one day. “Control them. Right.” I muttered. “How on earth do I do that?”

“We can teach you.”

I dropped my hands at Pietro’s words. “How?”

Pietro puffed out his chest with what looked like pride, and grinned at me. “I had powers too, once,” he answered, that same pride gleaming in his eyes. “I could run faster than a train. But I couldn’t really control it at first and just… ran wild. It was exhausting, really. Eventually, though, I learned how to control it, and I am sure I can teach you how to, too.”

I raised her eyebrows at Peggy for confirmation. Pietro seemed the boastful type, with no strength to back up his claims.

“It’s true,” Peggy affirmed, nodding at Pietro. I sighed.

Was I really going to put her life in the hands of a mildly annoying, invisible man?

Apparently so, because here they were five months following the incident, and I still come out into the woods to practice using my powers with him everyday, under Peggy’s careful supervision. Not to boast, but I think I’m already getting quite proficient at using them, and can manage partial transformations with relative ease; able to transform my arms into sleek, auburn wings that can carry me several feet off the ground for a few minutes at a time before I begin to tire, as well as changing my legs into ones resembling a bird’s. Pietro claims they are working toward a full body transformation.

I’m not sure that I like that idea. It’s daunting, and I’m not sure I am ready for it just yet. The thought of being able to transform from a human to a bird whenever I want to both terrifies and exhilarates me. It also overall exhausts me. It’s hard enough changing my body part by part. How does Pietro expect me to change my entire body?

“Why don’t you want to talk to us? We’re your friends, are we not?” Pietro’s voice suddenly snaps me back into the present, and I jump slightly at the sudden noise.

I swing around to give him my best unimpressed look, and am met with a childish pout. I snort in amusement, turning my attention back to the leaf litter in front of me.

“I wonder why I wouldn’t wanna talk to you." I sigh. "Maybe because you’re annoying, or maybe it’s because I’m tired of looking at your ugly mug.”

Pietro’s mouth falls open, and he lays a hand over his chest momentarily, an aghast expression on his face. “Ugly?” He gasps, affronted.

I chuckle. “Definitely. I’m beginning to think all the stories you’ve told me about the women you’ve wooed have all been a farce. That, or all the women you’ve met have been blind.” I tease him, and he splutters at me, searching for a returning insult. “And you’re my only friends, actually.” I correct him.

Pietro lets out a tiny cheer, his confident smirk returning to his features.

“But that’s only because Jeremy caught me talking to you and now everyone thinks I still have imaginary friends.”

“Well, we are better than them, anyway.” Pietro assures, trotting up so that he is walking next to me and not behind me. Peggy follows suit, coming to walk at my other side.

“I agree.” Peggy says seriously, nodding at Pietro’s words.

“Yeah, well, you’re also dead.” I huff, wanting badly to shove them, but knowing my hands would just pass through thin air.

“And yet, when you are with us, you have the time of your life.” Pietro quips. I roll my eyes at him, but give him the satisfaction of a small smile, which he returns with his own beam.

I catch sight of the clearing that is their base camp approaching, and give a wave of dismissal to Pietro and Peggy.

“Get lost now. I can’t talk while I’m here.” I order them. Can’t have another incident happening, where everyone thinks I’m crazy. I turn to nod at Pietro. “I’ll probably be out for another training session this afternoon.” I add.

“Fine,” Pietro sighs, stopping at the tree line. Peggy stands next to him, giving me a small smile as I depart.

“See you this afternoon, probably!” The woman calls after me. I give her a thumbs up, grateful that the area around the tents that I am walking towards is deserted. I really don’t need any more crap about how I probably still believe in fairies.

I weave through the group of tightly packed, brown tents, my kill dangling in my hands, before coming to a stop outside a particularly large, leather tent. It is more of a hut, really. But more portable.

“Laura! I’m back!” I call, before pulling back the flap of the tent and stepping inside.

“Already?” Laura’s muffled voice echoes back to me. I stand in the doorway of the tent-hut, letting my eyes adjust to the gloom.

It is their quote-on-quote ‘food-tent’. Everyone brings their kills of the day back here to give to Laura and Miah, the designated Cooks (capital ‘c’) of the group. They have the largest tent. It has a small, portable wood-fired barbecue with a table and chairs positioned at the centre, next to a small bonfire where they boil water or cook fish and sometimes marshmallows for the little kids. There is a hole in the top of the tent where the smoke filters out, but the air sometimes becomes so thick with the heat and smoke that they move out into the open air to cook anyway.

Laura and Miah are in charge of cooking, preparing, storing and sorting through food, with the help of Laura’s three children.

The group, which had started out at around 7 or 8 people, had quickly grown, and they were now 56 people strong. That might not seem like a lot, but this group is actually a branch of a much larger group, which had split up to keep numbers small and manageable and easier to hide. As far as they knew, there were around 850 people living in these small groups all throughout the Boreal Forest in Canada, with more people joining them every day.

The major cities of the world had been wiped out, patrolled endlessly by the Cerberus looking for more victims. Their searches had begun to spread, until every city on Earth was crawling with the things. Some people had managed to reclaim their homes in some of the cities, which were so big that sometimes the aliens weren’t able to find every single hidey-hole, but after a particularly large group hiding in New York had been purged, people had turned to living in the forests for better shelter, where the trees offered cover that the alien ships couldn’t land on.

Laura Barton had apparently been married to Hawkeye, one of the deceased Avengers, and had run away from her home after his death with her three small children, who often helped her out around basecamp. Miah is a friend of Laura’s, and they had both been on the run together when they had stumbled upon this group on their journey through the forest.

Laura is also an adoptive mother of sorts to me. The woman had found me hiding in my house at 13 years old next to the dead bodies of my parents, malnourished and terrified. I’d been hidden in a secret room underneath the house when my parents had been killed after the Cerberus had come bursting in with their deadly guns. I shudder at the memory. I swear I can sometimes still smell the foul scent of decay. But she and Miah took me under their wings; they fed me, protected me, gave me shelter and a place in their new family, and the rest is history, I suppose. But I’ll always be grateful for what they’ve done for me.

“Ah, the Birdcatcher returns!” Miah calls from where she sits at the far side of the tent, arranging the kills between furred, feathered and scaled animals. Her voice pulls me from my quickly darkening thoughts, thankfully.

“Yeah, I’m back,” I reply shyly, looking down at my feet self-consciously. It is a nickname I’d earned from the two of them for bringing back an exceptionally large amount of birds from my hunting trips compared to the other types of animals. In reality, I caught birds excessively because Pietro thought seeing the birds may help me transform my body more easily. A kind of biological map.

Carrying my kill over to Miah, I drop the birds on the ‘feather’ pile and the rabbit on the ‘fur’ pile, a gesture to which Miah nods at me appreciatively.

Laura walks over to me and gives me a quick hug, her youngest son Nathaniel hiding behind her legs shyly. He is still nervous around me, it seems, despite all our years together. I’m not entirely sure why he is so reserved in my presence, although Laura attributes it to his ‘admiration’ towards me that makes him shy. I don’t know what there is to be admired, though.

“Where are the others?” I ask, referring to Laura’s other kids.

“They’re outside with a foraging group. They were getting a little bit antsy and they needed to stretch their legs.” Laura replies. “The hunting is good today, then?” She adds, nodding at my contribution to the pile.

I nod. “Very good.” I pause for a moment, tilting my head at Laura. “Do you want me to go foraging too? I think I found some blackberries, or I might be able to find chokeberries. Maybe even some burdock or curled dock leaves for Leah and Ben, so we can stop dipping into medical supplies for nettle stings and scrapes.”

Leah and Ben’s job at base camp was to handle injuries and sickness. The ‘Healers’, as they were called, sometimes had the most gruelling job, when some unlucky person accidentally steps in a bear trap or breaks an extremity (which happens more than you may think). They needed to protect their precious supplies of real medicine, and so were turning to more and more herbal remedies that they sometimes shared with me. I enjoy working with them. They’re easy going and friendly, despite other people’s claims of my madness. They appreciate the helping hand, too. Apart from Laura, Miah and the kids, they are my only friends at camp.

Laura raises her eyebrows at this. “Do the plants even work?”

I shrug. “They told me about them last week and showed me what the plants looked like so that I might get some for them to try out on minor injuries. I haven’t seen any of them yet, but they said they’d read about them in a book on medicinal herbs.” I explain, pulling off my quiver and letting Nathaniel take it and my bow to tuck them away somewhere safe. Laura and I watch him walk away, making sure he doesn’t injure himself on the way. The bow and the arrows had once belonged to Hawkeye, apparently. Not weapons, but his ‘for fun’ archery. Laura had given them to me to keep when I’d lost my throwing knife in the river, a gesture I greatly appreciate. I’d become very good at using them, too. Not Hawkeye or Katniss Everdeen good. Maybe Robin Hood good?

“Do you have any more jobs to do?” Laura asks, turning back to me once Nathaniel had shuffled back to his mother’s side. I shake my head.

“I was out on hunting duty. They said once we caught three things we were free to do what we wanted for the rest of the day, seeing as most of the group is out either hunting or foraging right now.” I silently will Laura to send me out so that I can meet Pietro again and train for a little while today.

Laura hums quietly, considering my offer for a moment. “If you don’t have anything else to do, I think we would appreciate some more berries and other late-season fruits if you can find any. And keep an eye out for the… whatever it was that the Healers wanted.”

She breaks away from me suddenly and hurries over to the side of the tent opposite to Miah, where baskets and satchels were lined up. “Take these.” She returns to me to press a satchel into each hand. “One for us, one for the Healers.” The woman blinks up at me and gives me a cheery wink. “Don’t come back until our one is full.”

I give her a small smile, dipping my head and moving to leave the tent.

“I won’t,” I promise, relieved that I have an excuse to go out into the forest on my own again. Pietro and I were getting closer to a full body transformation every day. I just need to be patient and practice some more.

At Laura’s departing wave, I set out into the woods once more, trekking down a different trail that would take me towards a river instead of deeper into the forest, where I would be more likely to find some still-living plants and maybe even some berries. I hum softly as I walk. The silence here is almost suffocating sometimes. This close to basecamp, the birds don’t sing. There is no wildlife to be seen. And with no people around on top of this, the world around them is almost deathly silent half the time. It unnerves me sometimes. At times like these, I miss Pietro’s ceaseless small talk. And speaking of the devil…

“Back so soon?” Pietro’s voice sounds close by, lightly teasing. “I didn’t think you’d miss me this much.”

It might have surprised me if I hadn’t felt him materialise behind me just seconds prior.

I snort, turning to face him. “Hardly.”

Pietro feigns a hurt expression and jogs out in front of me, before smirking at my unimpressed face.

“You always are a joy.” He snarks, and I would’ve hit him were he a solid being.

“Where’s Peggy?” I ask instead, and Pietro shrugs. “She had something to do. We didn’t expect you to be out and about so soon, oh young grasshopper. But then again, who wouldn’t want to spend every possible waking moment staring at my face?”

“Right.” I roll my eyes. “I thought I told you this morning I found you revolting.”

“Ah, but that was just for fun, no?”

When I don’t reply, a frown creases his face.

“Right?”

I roll my eyes again. I swear, if I roll them anymore they’ll fall right out of my skull. “Of course it was. But every joke has a little bit of truth.” I say mischeviously.

“Ah, of course. This is why Peggy and I always joke about your intelligence.”

I suddenly really wish I had stayed back in basecamp, for some obscure, unknown reason, that also happens to be standing in front of me with a goofy expression on his dumb face.

Pietro tilts his head, regarding me with a curious expression, their banter momentarily forgotten. “Do you think you will be able to do it today?” He asks me, walking backwards slowly so that he can still retain eye contact with me.

“Do what?” I dodge the question clumsily, knowing full well what he was asking about.

Pietro rolls his eyes. “Do a full body transmutation. I think you may be ready.”

I blink at him anxiously, forgetting her earlier irritation. “Do you really think so? I think I need more practice.”

Pietro stares at me. “You have been practicing for the past five months.”

I shrug at him helplessly. “I still don’t know if I’m ready.”

Pietro narrows his eyes at me, before shrugging and slowing down to walk beside me. “I think we should at least try.” He says slowly. “If you can’t do it, we will keep practicing, but we’ll never know if you don’t try it first.”

I frown at the leaf-laden forest floor doubtfully. I suppose it would be worth a shot. Maybe.

“Okay, fine. But we need to look for food and burdock while we’re out. I don’t want to return empty-handed.” I concede, twisting around to scan the forest around her, eyes peeled for berries or any of the plants Leah and Ben had shown me.

Pietro snorts, trotting up ahead again. “You’ve already brought back your fair share of food, have you not? Can we not just spend the rest of the day training?”

I grunt in acknowledgement of his statement. “I know that, you know, eating isn’t such a big problem for you, but for us here in the realm of the living, we need food or we’ll starve. Besides, I made a promise to Laura.”

“Ah. Yes. I forgot about that part.” Pietro groans. “We will train first, then. And Laura? Laura Barton?” There is a note of interest in Pietro’s voice.

I incline my head in a slow nod, not really interested in the conversation anymore as I listen to a blackbird chirp in the distance. We are getting further from basecamp, I note. I’d have to find a clearing if we were going to practice, of course. The further from basecamp, the better.

“Here’s a good spot!” Pietro exclaims suddenly, almost as if reading my thoughts. I realise now that I don’t know the extent of his abilities, so who knows? He may very well be able to read my thoughts. And, in the off chance he can, I chant ‘Pietro’s an asshat’ over and over again. (He doesn't seem to notice).

He veers off the path and through the bushes, leaving me alone to stare after him. I sigh. Sometimes he forgets that I can’t phase through things like he can.

Pushing my way through the brush, I find Pietro pacing a small clearing surrounded by trees and bushes. It gives me some decent coverage, except…

“Pietro, this is far too small,” I point out. The young man turns around to blink at me.

“If you manage to do a full body transmutation, it won’t be,” he argues. “In fact, the limited space may improve your focus.” I scan the small area doubtfully, opening my mouth to argue with him, but he cuts me off before I can speak.

“Trust me, it is perfect,” he insists, moving to stand beside me and nod at the centre of the clearing, gesturing for me to begin the training session. “Off you go.”

I glare at him, but nonetheless reluctantly walked into the middle of the small clearing, pulling off my jacket and boots and dropping them and the empty satchels on the floor. I make a mental note to fill them up later.

“Okay,” Pietro clasps his hands together in anticipation. “Just like we have practiced. Wings first.”

But I had already closed my eyes, and spread my arms out at her side, feeling the energy beginning to pulse through my veins. Pietro remains silent for once, knowing it takes a lot of concentration for me to transform. I breathe in and out, slowly.

I can feel the soft breeze prickling against my skin, colder now. Can hear the blackbird, closer now. I imagine taking flight with it… feeling the air surround my body as I swoop effortlessly through the sky. Slowly, sleek, dark feathers sprout along my arms as my bones hollow. The feeling is strange, to say the least, but not unfamiliar. I’d done this all but a hundred times before.

The bones in my arms crack and reshape, and I gasp at the feeling. It doesn’t hurt, per se, but I doubt I’d ever get used to the feeling. Long flight feathers begin to extend from my arms, and I focus all of my energy on shaping them, making them larger, stronger so as to support my weight. Suddenly, the feeling of growing and reshaping stops, and I am left with a pair of fully formed wings. I open my eyes and blink down at them, marvelling at the strength and beauty of them. Pietro gazes at me with a similar sort of awe.

“Record time.” He congratulates me softly. “Now try the legs and tail.”

I close my eyes once again and focus on the blackbird’s cry. I’d killed enough of them before that I could perfectly picture their small, yet strong legs. Can imagine the tiny talons at the end of each toe. With these thoughts, my own toes begin to fracture and reform, extend and grow, much like my arms had. I feel her heels grow and my thigh bones extend and hollow out slightly, losing some of their weight whilst retaining their strength. Long tail feathers grew out behind me. It is strange, really, how my clothes seem to… melt away during my transmutations. It shouldn’t be possible for them disappear and reappear like they did, but they did. But then again, it shouldn’t be possible for a human to change into a bird, either.

In almost no time at all, I am standing, or more perched on the mossy clearing floor with the entire lower body of a bird. Pietro bursts out laughing. I glare at him, suppressing a smile of my own. I must look ridiculous like this.

Eventually though, Pietro manages to gain control of his laughter once again and shakes his head slowly in amusement, before blinking up at me with a more serious expression.

“Do you think you’ll be able to do the rest? We’ve practiced head and upper body transformations but… will you be able to maintain the rest of your form?” Pietro sounds concerned, but I am now itching to keep going. I’m on the edge of something amazing, I can feel it. I nod impatiently at him.

“Yes, I can keep going.” I assert confidently, shifting from foot to foot in anticipation. I’m not sure why I was so nervous before; I want so badly to finish this now.

Pietro grins at me. “Okay then. Go for it.”

Focusing the energy that pulses through me now, I direct it to my head and upper body. My nose and mouth reform into a beak, which quickly grows to match my skull size, as feathers sprout over the remainder of my body and the bones in my chest crack and reshape. To my surprise, the transmutation feels much easier now. Almost natural. One could compare it to flexing a foot; it’s more difficult to move individual toes, but easy to move the foot as a whole when walking. Soon, standing in front of a thoroughly awestruck Pietro, is a human-sized blackbird. He walks over to me slowly, his gaze raking over her body in wonder.

“You did it…” He breathes. Then, his face splits into a wide grin, and he positively beams at me. “You did it!”

Unable to reply in my bird-form, I merely puff out my chest proudly and let his wonder-struck gaze warm my body.

“Can you… get smaller?” He asks. “You won’t be much use if you’re this size, trying to fly somewhere stealthily.” I can see him suppress a snigger at the mental image of a dopey-looking, human-sized blackbird zooming through the sky, but I am curious.

What did he mean by ‘much use’?

Pushing the thought down for now, I blink down at my massive bird body, wondering how I can shrink it down. I spot the blackbird I’d been hearing flutter overhead, apparently curious about this massive bird perched on the ground beneath it. As I watch the bird swoop through the trees, suddenly the trees began to double, triple, quadruple in size, and I squawk in shock. No, the trees weren’t getting bigger. I am getting smaller.

I blink up at Pietro from where I am on the ground, a now normal-sized blackbird. He eyes me with a strange intensity that I haven’t seen on him before.

“Fly.” He orders, his gaze boring into me.

Uneasily, I take a few paces away from him, watching his gaze track my every move, an almost predatory look on his face. I shake my head. It’s just the bird instincts taking over. I have no reason to be afraid of Pietro. Right?

Experimentally, I extend my wings at my sides and flaps once, twice, three times... and am lifted into the air. Exhilarated and encouraged by the ease, I begin flapping my wings faster, delighted as I soar skywards. Why have I never done this before? It’s amazing! I remember the weightless feeling I had experienced the first time I had ever flown using a partial transformation, but it paled in comparison to what I felt now. It is… ethereal.

Pietro has me swooping and doing loop-the-loops in mid-air by the time Peggy arrives.

“There you are, Pietro!” The woman exclaims. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere! Where is June? She wasn’t at basecamp.”

Grinning triumphantly, Pietro nods up at me; I had fluttered up to perch in the branches of an aspen. Peggy peers up at me, before looking at Pietro with an unimpressed look on her face. “Pietro. That’s a bird.”

“No, it is June!” Pietro protests. “She did it! She went full-body!”

Peggy’s mouth forms a perfect ‘o’ shape as I chirp down at her, swooping down to fly circles around the duo before returning to my perch in the trees.

The ghosts begin talking quietly between them. Probably about how amazing I am.

A cool breeze ruffles my feathers, and as I gaze out into the sky above me, I suddenly realise something. The sun is setting. And I’d totally forgotten to collect food and plants for Laura and the Healers.

I peer down at Pietro and Peggy, and feel another pang of nervousness in my gut at what I see.

Pietro is muttering intensely into Peggy’s ear, whilst Peggy gazes up at me with apprehension in her eyes. When their gazes meet, however, Peggy looks back down and shakes her head at Pietro, to which Pietro responds to with slightly louder words that I still can’t quite make out from where I sit high up in the tree. Peggy apparently refuses again, because Pietro snaps something at Peggy, glowing brightly, before disappearing out of my sight.

Nervous, I flutter down from the tree and land at Peggy’s feet. Peggy’s eyes are glazed with thought as she stares down at me blankly.

I close her eyes and focus my energy on receding back into its natural form, returning me into my human shape. I sigh with relief, and realise just how exhausted my arms were from all of that flapping, while my stomach growls with hunger. Ooft. I’m going to be aching tomorrow.

“What happened between you and Pietro?” I ask, trying to sound casual as I walk to the centre of the clearing once again and crouch to pull on my jacket to protect myself against the now nipping cold air that drifts through the darkening trees, before doing the same with my boots.

Peggy doesn’t answer, continuing to stare absently at the floor.

“Peggy?”

This startles Peggy out of her thoughts, and she blinks at me in confusion. “I’m sorry, what did you ask?”

I purse my lips. What is going on with them today?

“I asked what happened between you and Pietro?” I repeat, fighting to keep the irritation out of my voice. I think that, maybe I am beginning to inherit some of Pietro’s short temper. Peggy glances over at the spot that Pietro had vanished, sighing.

“Pietro is impatient. He’s trying to rush something that shouldn’t be rushed, and I fear that may get us into trouble in the future.”

I tilt my head. “Mind elaborating on that thought?” I prompt, pulling on my other boot.

“Yes I would mind, actually.” Peggy replies, and I narrow my eyes at her. It was unlike the woman to keep secrets from me. Especially ones to do with Pietro. At seeing my suspicious expression, Peggy hurries on.

“I’ll explain later, I promise. But not now.” The woman suddenly stands up, looking distracted. “I think you should head back to basecamp. I’ll see you later this week.”

I am surprised by Peggy’s sudden need to rush off somewhere, but I nod anyway. “Okay. I’ll see you –“ Peggy vanishes before I can finish.

I sigh, leaning down to pick up the satchels from the ground. “- later.” I mutter, now alone in the dark forest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all. This chapter is a lot longer than I would normally probably write, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless. It's kind of slow, but I wanted to introduce some characters and get the plot moving as much as I can, because these next few chapters will span a couple of months.
> 
> In fact, the next chapter features the Avengers. So if you're only reading this story for them, stay tuned. The next chapter will probably come out not tomorrow but the day after, depending on how much writing I can do in that time. I have a lot of stuff going on tomorrow, so chances are it won't be out for an extra day, sorry! 
> 
> I'm not ENTIRELY satisfied with this chapter, I feel like the flow is disrupted, but do tell me what you think and if I should continue this story or if I should just quit while I'm ahead! Will possibly revisit this chapter in future.


	3. Please Eat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is from Please Eat by Nicole Dollanganger.
> 
> NOTE: I have added an extra scene to this chapter as well as edited the last one. Hopefully the story flows a little better from here on out!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Avengers! Well, some of them. Wanda is suffering; Steve tries to help. He's not all that good

The screams of the dead never leave Wanda’s head. The sounds of explosions going off, people crying for their loved ones, the shrieks… they fill her mind in every waking moment, and now, they accompany her even in sleep.

 

It is the fourth time this week that Wanda has had the same, sickening dream.

 

_Wanda walks slowly down the familiar streets of Sokovia, where, as of now, night gives way to a stunning day. She glances down at her clothes, and her breath catches in her throat when she realises that they were the same clothes she had worn back when she had first met Ultron. They were the same clothes she’d had for years in Sokovia, and were bordering on being too small, but she had had no money to buy new ones. Looking down at them now brought on a pang of nostalgia._

_The young woman gazes around at her former home longingly, an ache awakening in her chest that makes it hard to breathe. It had been hard, living on the streets of Sokovia, scrounging for scraps and even resorting to stealing to survive, but it had been her home. She recognised the faces that surrounded her on the street, and with a pang, she realised that almost none of them had survived the Battle of Sokovia._

_As the sun rises, Wanda’s feet carry her to the church that sits in the middle of her beloved home; the very same place Ultron had planted the device that had destroyed everything she loved._

_She tries to step inside the church, where a service is due to begin, but her feet freeze at the entrance. No matter how hard she tries, she cannot step inside. Wanda, wide-eyed, looks to the altar for worship, and sees her Apa and Anya standing next to Pietro. They try to beckon her inside, towards them._

_“Over here, Kicsi,” Her father calls to her._

_“You’re late! But then again, you always_ were _slower than me,” Pietro teases, as Wanda’s mother reaches out to her with her hand, a gentle smile on her face._

_And that’s when she hears it. The shrill whistling sound of a missile heading straight for the church. The church is suddenly empty of everyone except her family. Once again, Wanda desperately tries to break her body free of the trance that seems to have overtaken it, tries to lunge for her family, tries to save them but…_

_The missile hits before she can even cry out a warning, and she can only watch, horrified, as her family is obliterated before her eyes._

_Again._

_Wanda doesn’t feel the blast, but after the explosion her hearing goes haywire. There is an excruciatingly loud bang at the initial moment of impact, but afterwards it’s like the sound has fallen out while a video is playing._

_In an instant, Wanda’s body lurches forwards, free of the paralysis that had plagued it before._

_“Anya! Apa! Pietro!” Wanda wails, stumbling into the wreckage of the church. She thinks more than hears the words, but knows that she cried them out (loudly, too) from the soreness of her throat. A large hole had been torn through the roof by the missile, the sunlight from the once beautiful morning streaming into the room, and only a large crater remained where the altar and her family had been._

_Wanda trips on a piece of rubble as she staggers forwards and lands on the floor_ hard _. Splinters of wood, glass and stone dig into her hands, but she can barely feel the pain. She wants to vomit. To cry. To scream. The image of her parents’ faces flashes before her eyes, and a high-pitched keening sound escapes her throat before she can stop it._

_The young woman drags herself towards the edge of the crater. She knows she shouldn’t look, but she has to. Has to find them. She reaches the edge and peers over it, choking on a sob. Her parents are nowhere to be seen, but Pietro lies in the centre of the hole, sightless eyes gazing up at her._

_Groaning, Wanda pulls herself over the edge and slides down the rough slope to reach him. Chips of stone tear at the exposed skin of her legs from her too-small clothes, but she doesn’t care. Pietro’s ice-blue eyes are lifeless, but they seem to bore into her, and Wanda brings a shaking hand up to his face to touch his bloodied cheek, but stops short. She is terrified of feeling his cold skin. It makes it too real._

_Wanda shakes her head and sits back heavily, the hollow feeling of grief spreading through her body and making her feel numb as her eyes travel up and down his broken body._ His _clothes are stained red, ripped apart by the shrapnel that pierces his skin like bullets._

_Bullets…_

_Something snaps inside of Wanda at that thought and she reels backwards, gasping for breath, tears running down her cheeks freely. It didn’t matter that this is just a dream. He is still dead._

_Wanda’s sense of hearing abruptly rushes back, and she immediately wishes it is gone as the screams fill her head. She claps her hands over her ears but it’s no use, and agony pierces her skull with every shriek. It’s too much for her, and a wordless scream tears itself from her throat as she screws her eyes shut tightly, sobs racking her body_

_“Why didn’t you save us, Wanda?” Pietro’s voice rasps next to her ear, and her eyes fly open with a cry of shock and fear. Pietro’s lifeless eyes glare at her coldly, and Wanda fights back a wave of revulsion as she tries to control her breathing._

_Pietro tilts his head at her, narrowing his eyes. “Why did you want us to die?”_

_Wanda’s chest heaves and she shakes her head desperately. “I-I didn’t. I couldn’t! I w-wanted to do the right t-thing. I d-didn’t m-mean to lose you…” Wanda gasps between hitching sobs._

_“Waaaaannnndaaaaa… don’t lie to me.” Pietro’s voice is eerie and disjointed, and he drags himself towards her. Wanda realises his legs are missing. “I’m your brother. You can’t lie to me… so tell me… why didn’t you save us Wanda? Why did you want us to die?”_

_“I didn’t!” Wanda howls, and her emotions cause her powers to flare and they send out a burst of power, knocking Pietro back to where he laid previously, and he doesn’t move._

_“Liar…” The word is no more than a whisper on the breeze._

_A wail throbs in Wanda’s throat and she sinks down into the crater, next to her brother’s body. Her glazed eyes spot the silhouettes of birds circling them through the hole in the ceiling. They were probably looking for carrion to eat, and Wanda shifts closer, almost protectively towards Pietro. She’d seen them pick over the remains of dead sheep and cattle before, and had seen them soaring overhead after the shells had hit her home in Sokovia._

_“The birds don’t always mean death, you know.” Pietro’s voice sounds again, but louder and stronger this time. Almost like it had been when he was alive._

_Wanda whirls around to face the body, but it is unmoving._

_“In fact, this time, the black bird calls for your salvation. Do not fear it, little sister.”_

_Wanda realises the voice is coming from inside her head, echoing in her mind. Instead of fear, a strange sense of peace washes over the young woman, and she lets out a breath that she hadn’t realised she had been holding._

_“I’m coming for you, Wanda.”_

-+-

 

Wanda jerks awake on the floor of her cell with a gasp. It takes her a few seconds for her to steady her breathing and realise where she is, but in that few seconds, she swears she can hear her brother’s words echoing in her mind.

 

“ _I’m coming for you...”_

“Wanda?” Steve’s voice sounds cautiously through the wall of her cell, drifting through the barred gap at the top of their joined wall. “Are you okay? You were screaming.”

 

Wanda closes her eyes, taking a few deep breaths. Her throat feels like it is on fire, but Wanda isn’t so sure it’s from the screaming. “I’m fine, Steve,” she answers quietly after a moment. “Just had a nightmare.”

 

“The same one?”

 

Wanda sighs, nodding, even though she knew he can’t see her. “Yeah. And before you apologise again, you haven’t done anything to me, so I’m going to stop you right there.”

 

Steve is silent for a moment.

 

“Okay, then.” A pause. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

 

“I don’t think so, Steve. Thank you, though.”

 

“Okay. And no problem.”

 

Wanda shifts on the floor, trying to sit up, despite the ache of protest thrumming through her body. She is acutely aware of the uncomfortable weight of the power suppression collar around her neck, and moves slowly. Her one is particularly sensitive, with the strength of her powers. She doesn’t want to set it off.

 

It is sometimes difficult to manoeuvre herself in her shackles. The aliens had been particularly careful when restraining her. She is almost completely encased in vibranium chains. Her arms are strapped to her sides so that there isn’t a chance that she can use her powers, and she is in turn chained to the wall. Her legs are chained together loosely, so she can walk (or more accurately _shamble_ ) but not run. She is taken out of her cell three times a week to go outside, as opposed to daily for some of the other prisoners, like Steve. On top of that, she is allowed to move freely in her cell once a day to go to the bathroom and eat, but other than that, the corner of her cell is her new home.

 

It’s probably her own fault.

 

Wanda sighs, reaching the corner and sinking down into it. It’s the least uncomfortable place for her to sit right now, in her small, 4x4 metre cell. Wanda had known, when she had first arrived here, that she wouldn’t be able to fight back against the aliens. So she had been determined to make keeping her here as difficult as possible. And now here she is, paying the price.

 

But the aliens were learning how to… ‘take care’ of their prisoners, in some sense. At least not let them die, one by one, like they had been doing previously.

 

They were treated for all injuries, either self-inflicted or other, and were given medication when they were sick. They all had medical checkups once every fortnight to assess their wellbeing, although Wanda had to be dealt with more… severely in her transportations and treatment.

 

While at first they fed the prisoners some undisclosed, mushy, flavourless goo, the aliens realised quickly that the lack of potassium and magnesium in the food that they were giving them was making them sore and tired, and so they had added supplements, as well as iron tablets to the food to boost that aspect of wellbeing.

 

Wanda didn’t know where they found all of this stuff, but it was likely that they had found books on human biology and anatomy and had studied it to keep their prisoners alive, before raiding medical facilities for their treatments.

 

Why the aliens wanted them alive, Wanda also didn’t know.

 

While at first everyone had been in solitary confinement, the aliens had also realised that the loneliness that the humans experienced over extended periods of time had started to make some of them go mad, and they had knocked out a chunk of stone at the top of the wall of every cell and replaced the space with bars, so the prisoners could speak to one another.

 

When a lack of sunlight caused them to become lethargic, the aliens had let them outside, chains around their arms and legs but still outside, to soak in some vitamin D before being retired back to their cells.

 

Overall, the living conditions had improved for almost everyone in the prison in the years that they had been there.

 

Almost.

 

Despite all the extra care the aliens had taken to keep everyone alive, as mentioned before, Wanda was determined to make life difficult for her hosts. At first Steve, Sam and Natasha, (the only other Avengers that had been transferred to this prison with her as far as she knew) had all agreed to the plan with her.

 

Well, by plan, she really meant idea. Make life hell for the aliens. They’d refused to eat, refused to leave their cells, refused any attempts at medication, but instead of cracking under their joint resolve, the aliens had just forced them to do what they wanted.

 

This meant force-feeding, being dragged out into the sun and dragged back into their cages and medication sometimes being pumped directly into their bloodstreams. Steve and the other Avengers, realising their rebellion was only at their expense, had submitted to the aliens and let them keep them alive, which, initially, Wanda had been furious with. But now, she realised maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea, but was far too proud to admit it.

 

Her throat had been ripped raw, both from her screaming in her sleep and the tubes that were forced down it when they had to feed her. She was scraped and bruised from being dragged across the floor by the collar around her neck when it was time to go outside, as well as being dragged back. Her mind almost always had a tinge of fog around from the not-quite-working sedatives that were administered to her.

 

Wanda can hear footsteps coming down the hall, and involuntarily shrinks backwards. They were probably coming to feed her again.

 

“Wanda.” Steve’s stern voice echoes around her cell, and she can picture the frown on his face when he says it. “Wanda, don’t fight them this time. You’re only making it harder on yourself.”

 

“I don’t care.” Wanda spits suddenly, feeling a flash of anger towards the super soldier as the footsteps come closer. “I’m not giving in.”

 

“We haven’t either, Wanda,” Steve replies, his voice more urgent. The footsteps stop outside her door. Wanda braces herself.

 

“Don’t be stupid, Wanda!” Natasha’s voice shouts from the other side of Steve’s cell. He shares a wall with both her and Wanda. Sam is on the other side of Natasha, but he is too far away for her to hear anything he says.

 

Steve ignores Natasha too, apparently. “We just aren’t destroying ourselves for the sake of being rebellious. Wanda, we’ll get out of here, but you won’t be much use if you’re half dead.”

 

Wanda ignores him, struggling to her feet as the solid metal door slides open and light floods into her cell. She can’t see the aliens through the glare, but she knows they are there.

 

“Come and get me, fuckers!” Wanda howls.

 

“Wanda!” Steve barks at her, but it’s too late.

 

With a snarl of defiance, the young woman lunges towards the first figure that approaches her, a mere silhouette outlined by the lights outside. Her chains catch and stop her short, but still she struggles against them.

 

The alien lets out a warbled growl, one that Wanda recognises to be their native language and not the broken English that they spit at her using their translator. The alien next to the one that had spoken warbles in response and lifts its arm, pressing a button on its wrist band.

 

Wanda’s collar activates.

 

Electricity surges up and down her spine and she lets out a strangled scream, collapsing onto the floor.

 

Instantly, the shadows close in on her and pin her down, and Wanda glimpses the tube that they were about to force down her throat before her mind blackens and her body goes limp.

 

-+-

 

Wanda’s eyes open slowly. Her throat is killing her, and she coughs lightly, wincing. She hisses out a soft breath at the fiery pain in her neck.

 

“Wanda? You awake?”

 

Steve, again. Wanda tries to speak, but the pain makes it difficult. Instead, she taps her foot on the floor three times. It isn’t very loud, but Steve seemed to get the message, because she hears him sigh.

 

“Are you hurt? Tap once for yes, twice for no,”

 

Wanda hesitates, but besides the pain in her oesophagus and the steady throbbing of pain through her body that she always feels, she’s… okay.

 

Wanda taps her foot twice.

 

Steve is silent for a moment, but she knows he is preparing a big speech about how silly and prideful she’s being, and how she should just keep her head down until the ‘time is right’, but the words never came.

 

“They’re going to let us outside, soon. You’ve been out since breakfast. I’m worried about you, Wanda.”

 

Whatever the young woman had been expecting, it was not this.

 

“If we’re going to get out of here, you need to be strong enough to leave. If you keep going the way you’re going, you aren’t going to be strong enough. I think you should start lying low, and gather your strength for a bit. Please.”

 

“Oh please, Steve. She’s never going to listen to you.”

 

Natasha’s voice faintly reaches Wanda’s ears. She shifts slightly in discomfort. She knows what Steve says is true, but who knows if they were ever going to escape anyway? They’d been here for years. No one was going to come and save them, so why give the aliens what they want?

 

_Because they want the enhanced people alive, stupid. They want you alive. What are you going to do, kill yourself?_

Wanda quickly dismisses the thought, shaking her head.

 

“I can hear them coming again. Today’s one of your days outside. We can talk more out in the yard.” Steve tells her.

 

Wanda stills and listens carefully for the sounds of footsteps echoing down the hall, and sure enough, there they were. Wanda hears the door next to hers open, and hears Steve shuffle out, his chains clinking slightly as he moves.

 

The aliens skip over her door and open the one a few cells down from hers. As far as Wanda is aware, there are no people in the cell to her left. At least, she hasn’t heard anyone moving around in them, and the aliens never seem to enter that cell.

 

After about ten minutes, Wanda could see the lights flicker outside her door, and knows that the aliens had come to release her, too. Wanda braces herself once again. If this was to be her last show of defiance, she was going to make it good.

 

The door opens, and three figures enter her cell, one of them holding a long, metal pole. The alien warbles and snarls at its companions, and the other aliens creep towards her; Wanda feels a flash of pride at the caution in their movements.

 

One grabs onto her left side and the other takes her right as the one in front of her attaches the pole to her collar. The aliens detach the chains holding her to the wall, and instantly, Wanda explodes into a flurry of action. With a shriek, she lashes out with her feet and attempts to tackle the alien closest to her. The alien holding the pole begins to drag her out of her cell by the neck, and Wanda resists with all of her might, managing to stall them for a few moments, until a second alien helps pull her outside.

 

They manage to drag her, kicking and screaming, outside, where one alien attaches her chain to a large post in the centre of a high-walled, enclosed yard, while another alien detaches the pole from around her neck. They leave her, chained like a dog, chest heaving and exhausted, sealing the door back into the facility behind them after they go.

 

There are multiple armoured aliens protecting the yard, blasters and other strange weapons at the ready in case one of the prisoner’s attack. Wanda paces around her post for a few minutes, allowing herself to stretch her legs in the warm sunlight, before sitting down with her back pressed up against the cooler metal.

 

Wanda silently observes the other prisoners around her. Some are staring at her, but after she makes eye contact with them, they quickly look away. She knows they think she is being ridiculous, but they don’t understand. She isn’t giving up any time soon.

 

The other prisoners were allowed to move freely around the courtyard, eating their lunches. They still had collars around their necks and chains binding their hands and feet about a foot or two away from each other, but it was almost total freedom to someone cocooned in metal bonds and tied to a pole.

 

Wanda doesn’t let herself be embarrassed, though. She knows what she is doing is right. She can’t let herself give in. It would be an insult to her brother’s name to give up.

 

“So, that wasn’t really ‘lying low’, like I’d hoped. But I guess you weren’t ever going to listen to me anyway.”

 

There isn’t any bitterness in Steve’s voice as he sits across from her, a plate piled high with food balanced in his hands. He does sound weary, though, and Wanda feels a slight prickle of guilt, looking away.

 

“I brought you something to eat,” Steve continues. “Nat and Sam will be here soon, too.”

 

Wanda looks back over at the super soldier, her stomach twisting at the thought of more food.

 

Steve seems to notice her expression, because he shakes his head at her before going on. “I really think you should eat this. You don’t get to eat until dinner, and, well, I know as well as you do that you aren’t going to eat it and that they’re going to have to feed you again tomorrow morning, so I think it’s best to get some food into your system before then. From someone other than the aliens.”

 

Wanda raises her eyebrows at him. “So you made this all by yourself, did you?” She asks, her voice hoarse but still holding an accusatory tone.

 

Steve looks at her disapprovingly for a moment. “No. But I’m also not pushing it through a tube into your stomach, so I think it’s better that I feed you than anyone else.”

 

Wanda winces, the ghost of the tube still filling her throat, and decides reluctantly to accept Steve’s offer.

 

“Fine.” She rasps, and Steve’s lips quirk upwards in the beginnings of a smile.

 

“I guess that’s the closest I’m going to get to a ‘thank you’, so I’ll take it.” He stirs the porridge like substance on his plate with a spoon, before lifting up a spoonful for Wanda to take.

 

The young woman accepts the mouthful as gracefully as she can manage, which isn’t very graceful, and almost chokes at the flavour.

 

It tastes sweet, and warm, almost like…

 

“Honey?” Wanda asks, surprised.

 

Steve ducks his head, looking embarrassed. “I thought it might help your throat. It sounds like it hurts. Do you like it?” He lifts up another mouthful for her to eat, and she takes it almost a little too quickly, closing her eyes as the food soothes her throat slightly as it goes down. She nods slowly, opening her eyes and giving Steve a small, grateful smile.

 

Steve continues to feed her until Natasha and Sam approach them, each with their own plates of food.

 

“You put on quite a show,” Natasha says, almost drily, but touches Wanda’s shoulder as she sinks down to sit next to the younger woman, cross legged in the dirt.

 

“Well, on the plus side, your fear tactics seem to be working,” Sam adds, sitting at her other side. “They don’t go anywhere near you without backup.”

 

Wanda manages a small laugh, but it sounds a little more like clearing her throat than anything, so she falls silent and nods instead. She looks curiously at the food on the newcomers’ plates. They have the same, sweet scent of honey coming from them.

 

“Where are you getting the honey from?” Wanda asks.

 

The three of them exchange a look. Wanda narrows her eyes suspiciously.

 

“Where did you get it from?” She asks again.

 

“It’s kind of… a behaviour privilege.” Sam admits, looking down at his plate.

 

“Behaviour privilege?” Wanda repeats blankly. She knows what that means, though. “You mean for being submissive?”

 

“For being compliant,” Steve corrects her. “We’re being compliant until we can find a way out of here, something I think you should –“  


“No!” Wanda bursts out. “How can you take these things from them? They’re the bad guys! We don’t take _treats_ for submitting to the bad guys!” Her voice is almost hysterical, manic. The others grimace and shrink backwards slightly at her outburst.

 

“Man, she’s right!” Sam comes to a stand beside Wanda, much to everyone’s surprise. He glares at Steve. “I should kick the shit outta you.” Wanda can tell from the tone of his voice that he isn’t serious, and shoves him away.

 

“Idiot!” She snaps.

 

Sam holds his hands up defensively. “Alright, alright. Not the best time for jokes, I get it.”

 

“Shut up!”

 

“Keep your voice down, Wanda.” Steve hisses. Two alien guards are approaching them. Wanda notices dimly that she has actually never seen one of the alien’s faces, because they were always fully clothed with helmets on, or in shadow, but sets that fact aside for a later date. Wanda ignores Steve again, struggling to her feet.

 

“Get away from me!” She snarls at the approaching guards. Natasha, Sam and Steve are standing too, now, trying to calm her down, but it’s no use.

 

One of the guards lifts its arm and, with a tap to its wrist, activates Wanda’s collar.

 

Her screams echo around the courtyard as she is dragged back to her cell.

 

-+-

 

Wanda awakens yet again with a groan, pain pounding fiercely in her head, like someone was hammering her skull with a mallet. Her entire body aches more angrily than before, and she gasps despite herself.

 

She can smell her own burnt flesh, the acrid scent making her nose wrinkle, and she attempts to reach up to touch the burns on her neck, but the movement is marred by the chains. She sighs. She is back in her cell, fully immobilised and chained to the wall.  
  
She doesn’t even bother attempting to sit up. She knows she won’t be able to regain full motor control yet anyway, and it is already difficult enough to move around even when she hasn’t just been electrocuted.

 

As her eyes readjust to the gloom of her cell, with a jolt, Wanda realises she is not alone in the small space. There is a man standing before her in a white coat, watching her intently.

 

Despite the protests screaming through her body, Wanda struggles to sit up and meet his gaze, but fails anyway. The man tilts his head at her pathetic attempt, a hint of amusement flashing in his gaze.

 

“You really _are_ a fighter, aren’t you?” The man asks, his corners of his lips pulling upwards in a small smile as he eyes her dispassionately.

 

“Who are you? What are you doing here?” Wanda manages to choke up at him, straining against her collar like a dog on a leash, pain ravaging her flesh as her burns press against the metal. Embarrassment prickles through her skin, but she stamps it down. She is the only one who has been strong enough to resist. She has nothing to be _ashamed_ of.

 

“My name is Adam. I am a doctor, and I am here to bring you to your fortnightly assessment.” The man replies, walking breezily over to stand beside her. Under closer inspection, Wanda can just make out his blonde hair and his icy blue eyes, and her heart leaps into her throat. Those eyes were painfully similar to Pietro’s.

 

“But…” Wanda blinks up at him, shocked. “You’re not an alien. Why are you here?”

 

“Now, Wanda, you sound a little disappointed,” Adam tuts, crouching down and pulling out a set of keys. “No, I am not alien, but… I have seen the work they are doing here, and it is… invaluable. They offered me a place in their ranks, seeing as I am apparently the only human smart enough to question their motives instead of rushing blindly into panic.” He unlocks one of Wanda’s chains, before continuing.

 

“They are here to rid the world of our little… mutant problem. They’re doing us a favour. Taking away the enhanced persons before they can take us out.” He reaches down to grasp Wanda’s chin roughly, pulling her face up to meet his gaze. “You don’t belong here.” He hisses. “They know that. And they could certainly use people like you, whereas we have no need for you. So, I have offered my assistance for… insurance purposes. Don’t worry, I will take good care of the world when you leave. But, they don’t have everybody yet, so, it looks like you have to stick around a little while longer. You seem to be making that difficult, though, so I am here to make you a little more… agreeable.”

 

He releases Wanda’s chin and shoves her down forcefully, making her gasp slightly in pain.

 

“Stay still while I take the rest of these chains off.” Adam orders, groping around her body carelessly for the next lock. “Then we will head to the testing chamber.”

 

Wanda sucks in a sharp breath when his hands press against some bruises, but holds her tongue. Her mind races wildly. How can he, a human, be on the side of the aliens after all the destruction they caused? Anger boils deep inside Wanda’s belly, and she balls her hands into fists when she feels another lock click on her back.

 

“There. You’re off the wall now. Oh, and don’t try to hurt me, little girl. Your punishment would be… most severe.” Adam says, and Wanda forces her muscles to relax slightly, before he raises his voice. “Okay, let’s bring her down now!”

 

Wanda feels herself being lifted roughly off the ground by several strong pairs of hands. She is carried out of her cell into the blinding white-lit halls, and squints against the brightness, hissing out a breath of pain as she is jostled down the corridor.

 

“Hey! Where are you taking her?”

 

Wanda blinks and lifts her head, narrowing her eyes against the glare to see Steve pulling against his restraints towards her, eyes wide with alarm. He seemed to have been returning to his cell for the day.

 

“Keep moving.” The alien escorting him snarls, pushing him forwards, but Wanda can hear him shouting out for her as he is forced back into his cell.

 

Panic begins to set in, and Wanda starts struggling against the grips on her body, albeit weakly, the weakness still plaguing her body.

 

“Relax, Wanda,” Adam’s voice whispers in her ear, and she jerks her head around to stare at him, wild-eyed. In this light, she is able to get a better look at him. Relatively young, maybe in his late twenties, blonde, short hair, blue eyes, wearing a pristine lab coat. Just your regular psycho, you know. His cold eyes pierce into hers, holding her gaze fiercely. His lips curl up into a wolfish grin.

 

He looks hungry. For what, Wanda doesn’t want to know.

 

“You are only being checked up on. Then, I will see what medications will help you… adhere more to the rules during your stay at this facility.” He murmurs to her, and runs a hand through her knotted hair, but his fingers catch, forcing him to yank his hand out of her locks rather aggressively, and sending another stab of pain through her skull.

 

He frowns at her. “We will have to give you a wash. I know you aren’t due for one for another week but, I think you may be neglecting your hygiene more than necessary. It would be a shame to have to shave all of that beautiful hair off.”

 

Something about the tone of Adam’s voice sends a prickle of unease down Wanda’s spine, and she glares at him in return. “Touch me, and I’ll tear off your eyebrows and shove them up your ass.” She threatens, but her words lose some of their strength when she finishes with a hacking cough, her throat burning.

 

Adam’s smile falters slightly, but returns to being almost sickeningly sweet instantly; so fast that Wanda isn’t entirely sure it had wavered at all.

 

“Hurry up.” He growls to the guards instead of responding to her warning, and they quicken their pace.

 

-+-

 

Wanda is brought to a room relatively large in comparison to her cell, brightly lit and very sterile. She can smell the bleach staining the tiled walls and floor when she enters the room, and wrinkles her nose involuntarily. She hates that smell. She hates the doctors. Panic once again begins to flood her system, accompanied with a burst of adrenaline now that some of her fatigue had worn off. She begins to struggle.

 

She can hear the alien closest to her grunt in surprise when she manages to wriggle free of it’s grip, but it seizes her again quickly. Too quickly. She gasps, heart beating wildly. She can’t fight them, but…

 

She can’t be in here. She doesn’t want them to touch her. She doesn’t want needles. Doesn’t want scans. Doesn’t want doesn’t want doesn’t want -

 

Wanda is stripped forcibly by the guards into her underwear, before being strapped down to a table in the centre of the room. She manages to land a few blows on the aliens while she is unchained, however, which gives her a flash of savage satisfaction, even though she knows they could barely feel it throw their padded armour.

 

Adam inserts a needle into her neck, suddenly dressed in a doctor’s scrubs, and her limbs go limp, numbing and falling back against their restraints loosely. She is completely powerless.

 

“You can go now. She has been incapacitated.” Adam says dismissively to the guards, his eyes raking over Wanda’s body in a way that makes her want to throw up. “I will call you back inside when it is time to transport her back into her cell.”

 

Wanda hears shuffling and the sound of a door opening and closing, and then she and Adam are left alone in the sterilised room. Her heart hammers in her chest. She doesn’t want to be alone with this man.

 

Adam is silent for a few moments, his gaze sweeping over Wanda’s body, analysing it. He sighs, reaching out to touch her cheek.

 

“It’s a shame I’ve been given strict orders to do nothing but my job while I’m here. Failure to do so is punishable by death, you know. I would have liked to play with you, for a little while.” He runs his fingers over her face lightly, and Wanda pushes down a wave of horrified revulsion.

 

He sighs again, retracting his hand and turning away from her, messing around with something she can’t see. “Oh well. I will restrict myself to looking only, then. For… medical purposes.”

 

The tests take an agonizingly long time. Adam pokes and prods various parts of her, sticks electrodes to her body, x-rays her and performs a variety of other scans. He takes some of her blood, some of her saliva. He slices a six-centimetre line down her bicep, before, to her surprise, bandaging it up again. At seeing her confused expression, her informs her on his processes.

 

“I am seeing how long flesh wounds will take to heal naturally.” He states. “I will check on it every day until it is healed.”

 

To the young woman’s immense relief, he avoids anywhere private, despite his advances on her earlier, and even washes her hair.

 

Adam tests Wanda’s reflexes when the paralysis wears off, gives her an eyesight check and administers her some specific vitamins and antibiotics to add to her diet. She apparently has an infection in her throat, and Adam scribbles something on his notepad, muttering about the force-feeding she had been enduring.

 

“You were fed today by your friend, correct?” Adam queries, peering at her. “The guards mentioned it when they took me to your cell.”

 

Wanda manages a tiny nod.

 

“Good. He will be in charge of feeding you in future. We shouldn’t force anything while your throat heals, but that may be subject to change if you continue to starve yourself. Make this easier for yourself and your friend, and just do as I say, do you understand?”

 

She doesn’t respond.   
  
Then, pain flashes through Wanda’s head as Adam yanks on her hair, _hard._

 

“I asked ‘ _do you understand’_?” He demands, eyes flashing coldly and Wanda nods, wide-eyed. Adam releases her.

 

“Then we are done for today. I will see you tomorrow, Miss Wanda.”

 

-+-

 

“Wanda?”

 

Steve’s voice echoes through her cell.

 

“Is she alright, Steve?” Wanda can faintly hear Natasha ask from the other side of Steve’s cell.

 

“I don’t know…”

 

Wanda shifts slightly. It had been over an hour since she had returned to her cell, but despite the other’s many attempts at conversation, she had remained silent.

 

“I’m fine, guys.” Wanda whispers finally.

 

“What did she say, Steve?”

 

“She says she’s fine.”

 

“Oh… okay. Way to give us a heart attack, Wanda.”

 

While Natasha’s words are scornful, Wanda can hear the relief tinging her voice. The young woman sighs.

 

“I’m sorry.” She murmurs absently, staring at the floor in front of herself.

 

“You better be.”

 

“Nat…”

 

“What?”

 

Wanda can’t help the wave of shame and misery that washes over herself. It’s all her fault really, this hell she’s going through right now. She can feel tears welling in her eyes and a lump forming in her throat, and she tries to swallow it down, but a strangled sob manages to escape her, and she squeezes her eyes shut.

 

“Wanda? Are you okay?” Steve’s voice is gentle. Natasha is silent this time.

 

Wanda ignores him, more sobs bubbling up inside her and drowning out her other thoughts. In the middle of her pain and anguish, one thought permeates.

 

‘ _Where are you, brother?’_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ayyyy new chapter featuring the Avengers as promised! Don't yall worry, they'll be okay. Probably. Wanda is probably my favourite character out of all of them, and she's one of the more defiant and emotionally disposed characters, I feel, so it's more appropriate for her to act this way, in my opinion, especially with her mind fractured the way it is. 
> 
> Tell me what you all think and if you think I should continue to write this story, my motivation is a little low but I reckon with enough encouragement I can be persuaded to put out another chapter in a day or two! All kudos and comments are greatly appreciated.
> 
> And don't worry. Not all of the chapters will be as angsty as this one heh.


	4. Hurry, Hurry, What a Mess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Uh oh spaghetti-ohs. Stuff happens. Who's Leah? Find out! Is this where June's Journey begins?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is from Hurry, Hurry by Air Traffic Controller

“Wake up, June! It’s time to go hunting!”

 

I let out a groan, stirring from my slumber. I reach up to rub my eyes slowly, muscles aching with every movement. Flying sure does hurt the next day. I wince as I sit up even slower, my back stiff and my arms sore. Each movement was its own tiny struggle. Would I even be able to move at all today?

 

I’m almost tempted to call in sick, but I know that the group needs me. I am their best hunter (not to brag). And with the cold of winter beginning to set in, it is only a matter of time before there is hardly any food for _anyone_ to find, let alone me. Best fatten up now while we still can.

 

Pietro had insisted on flying every single day for the past week using my full body transmutation, although I’m not exactly sure why. Pietro _claims_ that he wants to make my transmutations quicker and easier, but I can already fully transform into a bird in under a minute, so I don’t really believe him. He also says he wants to make sure I can fly for longer, (Why? Again I do not know) after discovering the upper limits of my flying to skill to be flying for 45 minutes straight (just hovering in the air) and flying for three hours given 5 minute breaks in between to regain my strength.

 

Yeesh, it’s almost like he wants me to get so exhausted I’ll fall straight out of the sky. And there was that incident with one of the other hunters on Thursday who almost sniped me out of the sky with an arrow. Flying, needless to say, was beginning to take its toll on me, in both mind and soul.

 

Pietro was almost like a madman, pushing me and pushing me and pushing me, with hardly any rest, until I almost pass out. Feeling the deep aches in my bones, I’m almost tempted to tell him to shove it for today too, but Pietro said yesterday he had a surprise for me today, and I am curious for what he has in store for me. I’d always wanted to try something different. Maybe transform into something a little bigger than a bird. Wouldn’t that be exciting? To transform into a wolf or an elk or a _bear_?

 

It’s a far-fetched fantasy, sure. After all, I need to know what the creature looks like down to minute details to be able to transform perfectly. As of now.

 

I stand up and stretch my legs. They ache fiercely, and I bend them experimentally. They feel… weird. Is my transmutation having some kind of effect on my body? I frown, thinking. No. It couldn’t. Could it? I mean, I’m no doctor or scientist, but I think I should be fine. My legs are probably just tired. I push the thoughts down and jump on the spot slightly, letting blood rush back into them, relieved to feel them turning back to normal slowly. I sure don’t need anymore craziness this week.

 

Most notably, though, throughout all of the things that had happened these past few days, is that Peggy had been absent during all of their recent training sessions, always being ‘busy’ someplace else. It worried me at first, but Pietro was quick to diminish my worry, not by reassuring me, but by making me forget the other ghost was missing by making me fly the whole time they were together. Jerk.

 

I sigh, stretching upwards and feeling my spine crack nicely, easing some of the tension in my back. Stretching is very important now, apparently, because if I don’t stretch, I become cramped up like I’m pressed inside the tiniest oyster on earth and I can barely move. So, I stretch my body extensively before heading outside to go on another hunting trip.

 

After news of my numerous catches had spread through the camp, I had been ordered to be on hunting duty for the rest of the week, having caught more than anyone else in just the first half of the day. It isn’t a bad job, because I enjoy hunting, but it makes it particularly difficult for me to train with Pietro every day when I am expected to return with more food than the entire hunting party brings back. (Not literally, but a lot is being expected of me so it sometimes feels that way).

 

I slip through the crowds of people who are gathered to receive their jobs of the day, heading straight for the food tent. I step inside and the smell of cooking fish enters my nose; my mouth begins to water.

 

“You’re up late,” Laura comments, startling me. She is standing over in the far corner of the tent, in the shadows where I can hardly see her, sorting through what looks to be some kind of dried leaves.

 

I laugh awkwardly. “Yeah, well… I’m just really tired after yesterday…” I respond weakly.

 

Laura looks up at me and smiles. “Well, I expect you would be. That was a very big haul you brought in yesterday. Makes me wonder how you find it all.”

 

I duck my head bashfully. “I’m quieter than a big hunting party is all.”

 

“Oh. Is that how? Do you think we should start sending out individuals rather than groups?” Laura peers over at me curiously.

 

“I don’t know.” I shrug. “It works out, but I think I just concentrate better when I’m on my own…”  
  
Lies. Pietro and/or Peggy are usually always chit-chatting behind me. It’s a wonder I manage to catch anything at all, really. But I need the alone time with them, because at least when I’m alone, I can go off at them without anyone looking at me like I’m crazy.

 

“Right. Well. I might suggest it.” Laura stands up, dusting herself off, before coming over to me to give me a hug and plant a quick kiss on my cheek. “Are you sure you aren’t working too hard?” She asks, looking up at me with concern shining in her eyes.

 

I give the older woman a small smile of reassurance. “No, I’m fine. You know I’d tell you if it ever became too much, just so I could take the day off.” I say cheekily.

 

Laura purses her lips, apparently not satisfied, before reaching up to pick a leaf out of my hair. Then, she sighs, walking over to the wall on their right to pick up a bag. I can see the bow and arrows poking out the top of it.

 

“Okay, well… if you’re sure. Go and get us another big haul. Maybe try foraging while you’re out? Make up for last time.” (Pressure, much) Laura apparently didn’t believe my lame excuse that I had gotten lost and been unable to find any berries before it got dark the last time I went foraging. Yikes. Laura gives me another quick kiss, saying: “There are some berries and some fish parcels in there for breakfast. I’ll see you tonight?”

 

“Of course.” I say warmly, slinging the bag over one shoulder, and nodding at Laura in farewell before exiting the tent and heading off in the direction of the woods.

 

People whisper around me as I walk.

 

“There she goes again. Off into the woods with the fairies.”

 

“How does she manage to bring back so much food? She’s insane.”

 

“The trees probably tell her where all the birds are hiding.”

 

I ignore them, stalking through the mass of tents and reaching the woods on the far side, before...

 

“Hey, June!” Leah’s voice stops me before I can run off into the trees. I turn to face her, forcing a smile. Oh no. I don’t have time for more healing lessons. Not right now. But Leah’s returning smile quickly eases my irritation as she bounds over to me. The girl is… very pretty. She is 18 years old, has mousy blonde hair almost always up in a messy topknot, green eyes, a nice body… (although pretty much everyone here has a nice body, seeing as there are no sweets or anything to eat). Nonetheless, I find myself blushing as she approaches. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. _Stop blushing goddammit!_

 

“Yes? Is there something you need?” I ask, trying to stamp out the butterflies in my stomach. Leah’s eyes sparkle in the morning light and she stops at my side, only momentarily, before grabbing my hand and dragging me back towards the tents. I yelp in surprise, but don’t try to resist as she pulls me along.

 

“Yep. The plants work. We could use some more, so I’m just gonna show you what they look like again before you head out.” She replies cheerily. I grunt when I trip over a tent peg, making the tent it was attached to shudder.

 

“Couldn’t you have just brought the plants to me?” I ask as we slow to a halt outside the Healer’s tent, the second-largest tent in camp. The young woman glances at me, pouting.

 

“Yes, but this way, we get to spend a little more time together. Come in!” She turns and pushes through the entrance, leaving me a blushing mess outside. Oh my god. Stop it. I take a deep breath, steeling my nerves before I push in after her.

 

The tent is relatively dark inside, but not gloomy. It has a warm kind of light filtering in, dimly illuminating the spacious area. Laura beckons her over to the far side of the tent.

 

“I actually talked to Dean. He said you could spend a few hours working with us today. With winter coming and us discovering all of these new herbal remedies, we need to go foraging before the frost kills off all of the growth.” She rummages through a basket of books, while I linger in the entranceway of the tent. Dean is the ‘leader’ of our group. Everyone has to go to him for permission before changing up the schedule.

 

“Oh, hello June,” Ben’s voice pipes up from where he is seated in the far corner of the tent.

 

“Hi Ben. Whatcha doing over there?” I peer over at him curiously. He flashes me a handsome smile. Both of the Healers are good looking, actually. Ben is older than Leah, in his mid-twenties, and has brown hair and dark eyes; not well-muscled but not too lean either.

 

“I’m making more baskets,” he replies, lifting up the one he was working on just moments ago for me to see better. “What are you doing standing over there? Come on in; you know you’re always welcome.” He gives me a warm smile.

 

I smile back at him and drop my bag on the floor next to the entrance, before coming to sit by Leah. She had apparently found the right book, and was flipping through it quickly, green eyes skimming the pages.

 

“Aha! There we are…” She places a finger on the page, before turning the book around so that I can read it. “Coltsfoot. Helps with breathing issues like asthma or congested chest. That’ll help us when people get sick in the snow.” She flips to another page. “Balsam Fir. Its sap can be used to treat all kinds of burns and cuts.” Another page. “Sweetflag. Used to treat loads of coughs and aches.” I struggle to absorb the images of the plants Leah is showing me as she chatters on about their uses. Ben seems to notice.

 

“Hey, hey, Leah, calm down. Let her read it at her own pace.” He chides her, and Leah turns to pout at him.

 

“Sorry.” She mumbles. “I’m, like, a hundred and ten percent energy. And it gets kind of boring being holed up in here.” Then, her eyes brighten and she turns to look at me excitedly.

 

“How about you read the book while I braid your hair?” She offers, shoving the book into my hands without waiting for a response. The girl _is_ very jumpy; I wonder if she calms down in the presence of a patient, or if she just runs wild all the time.

 

I smile, though, when she tugs my long, dark brown hair out of its usual ponytail and starts to part it. It was kinda sad, actually. My hair had gone from a fiery ginger into a darker brown as I grew older, and I missed my auburn locks. I know Leah had liked my hair that colour, too. But now she reassures me that my hair looks ‘epic’ being dark brown, and I’m grateful for her confidence.

 

I settle myself down into a slightly more comfortable position and begin flipping through the pages, reading about the plants that Leah points out to me before flipping the pages some more. After what feels like hours, Leah announces that it’s time for them to go, and I shift and pull my legs out from beneath me. I stretch them out, allowing feeling to rush back into them. I had been sitting on them for far too long, and pins and needles prickle at my skin, making me wince.

 

When I am finally able to mobilise myself again, I tuck the plant book back into its basket and pick up my bag, ready to go. I wait by the tent entrance for Leah. Ben is apparently staying here to finish the basket.

 

Leah trots up to me carrying her own satchel, eyes shining.

 

“Took you long enough.” I say mischievously; she swats my arm in response, a frown on her face. It quickly turns into a smile though as she suddenly tears away, leaving me by the tent to shout after her.

 

We sprint through the cluster of brown tents, racing towards the woods. I pant, my legs aching, but manage to keep up. I even begin pulling ahead as we break out of the crowd of tents and reach the flat stretch of grass between them and the trees. It is nearing midday; I would have to hurry if I was going to forage _and_ hunt today. We run into the trees. I streak through the undergrowth, my feet a blur. My heart hammers in my chest. I know the woods here like the back of my hand. I fly through the towering spruces and pines, only aware of the wind streaming through my now-braided hair, not even realising that I had left Leah behind until she calls me back.

 

“Hey! Wait up!” Leah gasps, and I skid to a halt in surprise, turning to look at her. I am numerous feet ahead of the other girl, and she slows to a trot as she approaches, chest heaving.

 

“You’re fast,” she puffs, leaning against a pine tree, her breath billowing out in small clouds. It’s getting colder by the day, here. I smirk at her winded expression.

 

“I thought you were a hundred and ten percent energy?” I tease. Her only response is a glare, but a smirk plays on her own lips, too. We wait together in silence while Leah catches her breath. But energy buzzes beneath my skin, and I am eager to get moving again.

 

“Okay, okay.” She sighs, straightening up again. “There should be coltsfoot closer to the river. It’s sandier and rockier there. Sweetflag too, maybe, if it’s wet enough. In the meantime, keep an eye out for any dock or balsam firs.”

 

I blink at her, raising my eyebrows. “All these trees look the same to me. How am I supposed to distinguish between a pine tree and a balsam fir?”

 

“You look carefully.” Leah replies smoothly, narrowing her eyes at one of the trees nearby. “See, that one is just a regular pine. You can tell because the leaves are different.” She points at it with her right hand, before shifting it further over. “ _That_ is a balsam fir.” Without another word, she jogs over to it, pulling her satchel over her head, and leaving me to stare at the trees with narrowed eyes.

 

My gaze flits between the trees Leah had pointed out. Ah, yes! They are indeed both trees. And they look the exact same.

 

I let out a grumble of irritation, plodding after Leah, who had begun hacking away at the bark of the ‘balsam fir’ with a small knife. And people call _me_ crazy.

 

Suddenly, a sharp pang twists in my gut. Ah. I should’ve known I’d find Pietro out here somewhere.

 

I glance around, eyes scanning the brush for the familiar glow of his ghostly body. I catch a gleam of white disappearing through the trees a little way away. I blink over at Leah nervously.

 

“Hey, Leah?” I call.

 

“Yeah?” Her voice is muffled by the branches of the fir.

 

“I think I remember seeing some dock somewhere over there,” I say, gesturing in a random direction. Leah can’t see me anyway. “I’ll go and get it and bring it back to you.” I’m already moving before the other girl can reply.  


“Okay! Just don’t go too far!” Leah calls. The loud hacking sound continues.

 

I glance around quickly, making sure they were alone and out of sight of the camp before plunging into the brush. I run down one of my well-trodden paths, feet almost flying over the leaf litter, pursuing the flash of light. I see it again, moving through the trees quickly, and away from me.

 

“Hey! Wait up!” I yell after the retreating figure. It doesn’t stop. I see it veer sharply off the path and to the left, and I let out a huff of annoyance before leaping after it. The prickly hawthorn bush that the ghost had disappeared through scratched at my exposed flesh, and I wince. I am definitely giving Pietro an earful when I catch him.

 

But when I manage to fight my way through the tangling bush, I find not Pietro on the other side, but Peggy. The ghost woman is sitting on the ground. She glances up at me as I approach.

 

“Peggy?” I ask incredulously. “Where have you been! It’s been over a week since I last saw you…”

 

Peggy gives me a wan smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes, silent.

 

“That’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about, June.” Peggy says, beckoning me over to sit on the ground next to her. I glance around the small area there are in. A tightly packed clearing sheltered by the boughs of a towering aspen. It’s actually kind of nice here.

 

I come to seat myself next to her, shifting slightly so as to face her better. We hadn’t spoken since Peggy’s apparent falling-out with Pietro, and I am curious to find out what it was about. I’d asked Pietro, of course, but he’d just told me that Peggy would tell me when she got back. Well, I’m done waiting, and, tired of being treated like a child, I think it’s time for Peggy to spill the beans. If she doesn’t, I’ll make her. (Somehow).

 

“Long time no see.” I say, for lack of a better greeting.

 

“Well, yes, if you consider a week a long time.” Peggy replies, nodding in response.

 

“I do when you vanish without warning. Care to tell me what that was all about?” My tone isn’t accusatory, but it isn’t exactly happy either. “Pietro said you’d tell me.”

 

But Peggy isn’t listening. She’s gazing off into the woods.

 

“Peggy!”

 

Startled, Peggy snaps her head around to blink in shock at me. “Yes, sorry?”

 

I bite down a hiss of frustration. “Where have you been? What’s going on between you and Pietro?”

 

Peggy hesitates. I fix her with a warning glare. I’m not going to take any bullshit.

 

Sighing, Peggy looks away again, shaking her head slowly. “You’re so young… Pietro wants you to do… something, but I think it’s too early just yet.” She murmurs absently.

 

I feel a flash of irritation. “Can you just tell me what it is? I don’t have time for any cryptic information or any ‘Oh but the weight of my words’ crap. If it’s nothing important, don’t tell me, but you and Pietro have been acting weird lately.” I pause. “Well, weird _er_. And if I’m involved I want to know.”

 

“I think we should tell her, Peggy,” Pietro’s voice is surprisingly solemn. I whip around to stare at him in surprise. I’d been so focused on Peggy; I hadn’t noticed the ghost man materialising in the clearing.

 

“Tell me what?” I demand, but Pietro isn’t looking at me. My patience is wearing thin.

 

“She will find out sooner or later. Besides, I think she is ready.” Pietro steps towards me and Peggy, mouth set in a stubborn line.

 

“She might die!” Peggy hisses back. “Don’t you see? This is dangerous!”

 

“What do you mean ‘I might die’? Can someone please just tell me _what the hell is going on??_ ” I exclaim, my frustration overflowing.

 

“Pietro…” Peggy warns, but Pietro ignores her.

 

“The Avengers are alive. They are being held on the other side of the mountains. You need to find them, and get them out.” He tells me, his ice-blue gaze boring into mine.

 

I stare at him in surprise, jaw slack. It takes me a few moments to process the words, and even more to come up with a response. He’s kidding, right? I glance at Peggy. The look she’s giving Pietro is murderous. Okay, nevermind, maybe he’s not kidding. A flood of questions enters my mind.

 

“What do you mean ‘get them out’? Of where? And how do you know they are alive? And why do _I_ have to be the one to find them?” I burst out, scrambling to my feet and glaring at the two ghosts disbelievingly.

 

If Pietro knows that Peggy is going to kill him a second time, he chooses to ignore that fact.

 

“The Avengers are being held in a facility on the other side of the mountains. You need to find them and break them out. The world has been silent for too long. And we know they are alive because we have _seen_ them. And as for your last question, well, as of now, you are the only enhanced individual we know of that remains free. And, as of now, you are the only person left alive and free that knows that the Avengers are alive and where they are.”

 

I stare at him. Any words I was about to say die in my throat. I can’t go on some wild goose chase looking for the Avengers! I’m not a fighter. I’m not…

 

“You are the reason we are here, June.” Pietro whispers, walking closer to me, ignoring the conflicted look on my face. “You have not one, but _two_ powers. You are very special. And now, we need you to put those powers to good use. The Cerberus are already looking for you anyway. You don’t want them to find them before you are ready.”

 

I suddenly find myself fighting the urge to throw up. They’re trying to find me? Hysterical laughter bursts from my throat instead.

 

“You’re joking, right? This is all… some kind of sick joke! I’m not some… some _vigilante!_ The Cerberus are too strong to fight! If the Avengers couldn’t win, what makes you think I can?? What makes you think I’m capable of something like this?” The images of my parents’ lifeless eyes flash through my mind, and I recoil. This isn’t fair. I _know_ what happens when people stand up to the Cerberus. They can’t just put all this pressure onto me!

 

“June, you’re the _only_ one capable of this!” Pietro insists, reaching out to me. Peggy is standing now, too. She watches the interaction with anxious eyes.

 

“I’m sorry, June,” she whispers. “This is how it is.”

 

I stagger backwards, shaking my head at Pietro and Peggy.

 

“I can’t… no…” I rasp, before fleeing back in the direction of camp.

 

My blood roars in my ears as I leap over roots and logs, heart racing faster than my legs. My breath billows out in clouds in front of my face, blocking my vision. _I can’t I can’t I can’t. The Avengers… they’re dead! And even if they’re not, I will be if I try to find them!_

I break through the tree line, bolting across the clear stretch of grass towards the brown tents that crowd the area, almost running into an older man and what seemed to be his wife. In my haste to stop, I accidentally trip over a half hidden rock and land heavily at the couple’s feet, narrowly avoiding the collision.

 

“I’m sorry!” I gasp, trying to regain my feet. The man blinks down at me in surprise, and it is then that she notices the stars lining him and his wife’s clothing. They are both dead.

 

The man leans down to me, an intense light burning in his gaze, and I scramble backwards with a yelp.

 

“You’re the one they told us about, aren’t you?” The man narrows his eyes down at me. “You have to find the Avengers, little girl! The world needs them!”

 

The woman next to him reaches out to me. “Please,” she adds in a whisper. “You need to find my son.”

 

I just manage to regain my footing and springs away, a scream threatening to tear itself from my throat. I weave my way through the rows of tents, but they are everywhere. The people. The ghosts. They watch me curiously from the shadows, and I let out a wail. Am I dead? Is that why I am seeing so many people now?

 

“June! Are you alright?” Laura’s voice shocks me, and I jump away from the gentle touch she had placed on my shoulder. Laura’s kids, Lila, Cooper and Nathaniel all stare at me from behind their mother, wearing similar looks of shock on their faces.

 

I gulp in a few deep breaths of air, trying to calm my heart, but a glimpse around me shows me the ghosts are closing in, walking slowly towards me with looks of interest on their shimmering faces. They’re murmuring between themselves quietly, but their voices cut into my mind like knives. They might as well all be shouting at me through megaphones.

 

“Is she the one?”

 

“Can she see us?”

 

“Did they tell her like they said they would?”

 

“They must have.”

 

I scream loudly, covering my ears to try and block out the whispers of the dead. Laura jerks backward with a shout of alarm, drawing her kids close to her, apparently to protect them from my seemingly manic outburst. Other people, living people, were coming out of their tents now, eyes round with perturbation at the disturbing noise. I stand in the centre of it all, a freak at a circus show.

 

_I need to get out of here. I need to get out of here._

“Hey! June! There you are! I heard you shout and saw you running off…” Leah trails off, slowing down as she draws nearer to June. “Are… are you alright?”

 

I turn to face the other girl, and seeing her face, her concerned, green eyes… I realise I am a danger here. If what Pietro says is true… if the Cerberus truly are looking for me… Staying here would mean killing them all. Even if I can’t find the Avengers… I can’t stay here either.

 

I have to leave. But I am surrounded now. I can’t leave without being chased down and caught almost immediately. My apparent madness has been revealed. No longer is my insanity a rumour. They will kill me. Or cast me out. I am a danger here, whether they know I am enhanced or not. Mad people are too likely to spill secrets. To do reckless things. My options are running out. I know what I must do.

 

“June!”

Laura’s anguished cry slashes at my heart like a blade, and I turn around to face her for what may be the last time.

 

“I’m sorry,” I whisper to her. “Thank you for everything you have done for me.”

 

And then I did something I never thought I’d do. I transformed in front of everyone. I revealed my powers.

 

I let out a strangled howl as my body crumples violently into its bird form. I’d never transformed this quickly before. People all around me let out cries of shock and horror as my body seemingly explodes into a cloud of dark feathers.

 

When the transmutation is over, I am a little blackbird, gazing out at the crowd of people, dead and alive, who stare at me with looks of wonder, fear and in some places, anger. But worst of all is Laura. She stares at me with an expression of pure terror on her face, as she pushes her children behind her.

 

_She’s afraid of me…_

All around me, people whisper and mutter angrily, their voices steadily becoming louder.

 

“… _freak…”_

 

“She’s an enhanced! She could ruin everything!”

 

“Someone grab her! We need to lock her up before she exposes us.”  
  
“I knew there was something off about her the moment I saw her…”

The people are closing in. I stare at Laura, a feeling of despair welling up inside me, threatening to overwhelm me. Then, someone lunges towards me, arms outstretched as if to grab me, and I jump away with a squawk of alarm. People are pulling out weapons I didn’t know they had. I see Dean, eyes wide with fear and anger, holding a shotgun. Our leader doesn’t want me to live, either. My last hope withers away.

 

With one last, desperate look at Laura, I extend my wings and fly into the air, my mournful cry echoing through the clearing as I swoop toward the trees. Bullets sling past me, just barely missing my small body. I let out a trill of fear and fly faster, propelling myself with more urgency into the woods.

 

There is no going back now.

 

-+-

 

I fly for hours before my wings begin to tire. The sun had already begun to set, and I am exhausted. I haven’t eaten all day, I realise, and I make a clumsy landing on the ground next to a wide, slow moving river.

 

I groan as my body returns to its natural form, my strength sapped. Pebbles crunch beneath me as I collapse onto the thin stretch of shoreline between the river and the trees. Night has almost fallen.

 

I am alone, hungry and homeless. I feel tears beginning to well in my eyes but I blink them back. No. I did the right thing. I saved them. So why do I feel so bad?

 

There is another twist in my gut, one not from hunger, and I know immediately the ghosts had followed me out here.

 

“Go away.” I say hoarsely, angrily. The ghosts don’t reply, but they don’t leave either.

 

“I said go away!” I scream, standing and picking up a rock and hurling it behind me, straight at them. It passes through Peggy’s body harmlessly.

 

I glare at them, breathing hard, before sinking back down to sit on the pebbles, head down.

 

“I want you to quit following me,” I mumble, squeezing my eyes shut.

 

“Why? We’re your friends, are we not?” Pietro tries to sound light-hearted, but I can hear the guilt plaguing his tone.

 

“No, you’re not.” I spit out. “Because of _you_ I’m now a fugitive from the aliens _and_ the humans!”

 

“Because of us?” Pietro repeats, annoyance entering his voice and drowning out the guilt. “ _You’re_ the one that freaked out! It isn’t our fault that you –“

 

“- _Enough,_ Pietro.” Peggy warns, cutting him off. He glares at her furiously, but remains silent, stalking over to the river’s edge to sulk. Peggy sighs, watching him leave, before approaching me and sitting at my right side.

 

“I’m sorry about what happened.” Peggy murmurs quietly. “But we are all you have left. We can help you, June –“

 

“Help me?” I cut her off, my words coming out laced with venom. “ _Help_ me? You two are literally going to be the death of me. Because of you, I’m out here on my own with winter approaching. I’m going to die out here and it’s going to be _all your fault!_ ”

 

“That’s not true.” Peggy argues. “I can teach you how to fight. Pietro can teach you how to further control your powers, and, well, you know how to hunt.”

 

“With a bow and arrow.” I point out.  
  
“You can transform into anything you want, at any time, and you’re going to let yourself starve because you don’t have a bunch of pointy sticks?” Peggy asks, her tone scornful. I duck my head, embarrassed. She’s right. As usual.

 

“If it’s any condolence, I gave Pietro a pretty nasty beating after you ran off.”

 

Peggy gives me a tiny smile. I blink at her in surprise, forcing a small smile of my own. Peggy turns back to look over at Pietro, frowning.

 

“You don’t have to do this you know. I understand if this is too much, but… I think you may be our only hope.” Peggy tells me, her tone soft, yet pleading.

 

I blink at her, surprised. I wasn’t expecting an offer of a way out so soon. I puff out a breath, shaking my head. It clouds out in front of me. I realise then how cold it is, and tug my jacket tighter over my shoulders. “I’ve thought about it the whole way here.” I say slowly. I take a deep breath, steadying myself. “I’ll do it. If I’m the _only one_ as you say, then it’d just be selfish if I didn’t do anything, I guess.” Peggy perks up, but I ignore her and absently pick up a stone, turning it in my hands before tossing it into the river. The ripples expand outward, disrupting the reflections of the stars glittering in the water.

 

“I mean, what else do I have to lose?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooft. Yeah, the journey begins! I kinda wanted to get right into it, so here we go! Next chapter features the Avengers again. Poor Wanda is all I can say.
> 
> Comments and Kudos are much appreciated!


	5. You And Me, Always

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Title from Always Forever by Cults

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wanda gets a grip... a little too late

Wanda’s sobs continue for what feels like hours before Steve finally hears them die away into silence. He listens carefully, and picks up on the sounds of the young woman’s deep breathing. She is asleep, it seems. He sighs. Good. She needs it. Steve hopes against hope she doesn’t have another nightmare.

 

His thoughts wander back to the strange man he had seen escorting Wanda to her medical examination. It had shocked him, to say the least, but Wanda hadn’t spoken to any of them before she dozed off, despite his and Natasha’s best efforts. It worries him. How many other people were in on the aliens’ plot? Was it just that one man? Could he have played a larger part in all of this?

 

Steve made a mental note to ask Wanda when she awoke.

 

“She asleep?” Natasha asks through his cell wall.

 

Steve sighs. “Yeah.”

 

“We need to convince her, Steve. She’s going to get herself killed. I think the aliens are getting tired of her act.”

 

Steve shifts uncomfortably at the assassin’s ominous tone.

 

“I know. But we’ve tried! She won’t listen to us…” Steve trails off, the image of Wanda’s crazed eyes as she was dragged away from the courtyard flashing though his mind.

 

Sam is apparently listening in to their conversation, because he chimes: “Maybe I could try? She and I were kinda close before…”

 

Natasha snorts. “There’s nothing you can say that we haven’t before, Sam. But thanks.”

 

Steve frowns, tuning out as he thinks. Wanda is determined to be difficult, even at the expense of her own health and safety. She has no interest in listening to reason, but maybe we could –

 

The metal door to Steve’s cell grates open, startling the super soldier out of his thoughts. He stands up, ready to face whoever comes in, his stance set. He is dimly surprised when the man that had taken Wanda away slips inside, gazing about Steve’s cell momentarily before waving a hand behind him. The door slides shut again and Steve and the man are left alone in the cell.

 

“And what do you want?” Steve growls, narrowing his eyes at the man. He tries to move forwards but his chains catch, holding him in place. He is a lot freer to move around than Wanda is, but he is still chained to the wall on a night. The man gazes at Steve with a bored expression, holding a clipboard to his chest and looking completely indifferent to the situation.

 

“Greetings, Captain Rogers. My name is Adam. I am here to set out a few terms about your pretty little friend next door.” The stranger introduces himself. Steve curls his lip slightly. He doesn’t like the way the man describes Wanda, and longs dearly to sock him in the face, if only to wipe his smug expression off.

 

Adams icy blue eyes scrutinize Steve’s hostile body position coldly, seeming almost amused.

 

Steve lifts his chin, forcing himself to relax. “What terms? For Wanda?”

 

Adam snorts. “Yes, fool. Who else? She has an infection in her throat from the force feeding. I do not wish to aggravate it.” He begins, straightening his clipboard and flipping over the first page. “You were observed feeding her in your shared time outdoors, today.”

 

Steve glares at Adam. “So what? She needed to eat.”

 

The man’s eyes flicker up to Steve, unperturbed by his tone. “Don’t worry. You aren’t in trouble. I’m here to inform you that you are to continue feeding Miss Wanda until her throat heals.”

 

Whatever Steve had been expecting, it was not this. He just wants him to… feed her? That’s it? He shakes his head, pulling himself back into the present.

 

“Why do you care so much?” Steve asks suddenly, his shoulders loosening.

 

Adam’s lips quirk up into a smirk. “I don’t. _They_ do.” He jerks his head over to the door, presumably gesturing to the aliens that are waiting outside. “I couldn’t care less if she lives or dies. I’m just upholding my end of the deal: keeping you alive until they decide to kill you.”

 

Coldness floods Steve’s body at the words. “’Kill us’?” He repeats, dumbfounded.

 

“Yes,” Adam sniffs, flipping the pages back to the cover and turning to leave. “I don’t know why they’d want you alive. But keep you, take you, kill you, I don’t care, as long as you’re _gone_.”

 

Steve grunts and pulls against his chains threateningly. The metal door opens again. Adam saunters leisurely over to it, clearly revelling in taunting Steve’s bound form.

 

“You will be awoken tomorrow morning to feed the girl.” Adam informs him smoothly.

 

He pauses at the exit, now a mere silhouette, but glances back over at Steve, a cruel smile on his face.

 

“You’re lucky, you know. Miss Wanda sure is something _special,_ isn’t she?” He purrs, before throwing his head back in a laugh and slipping out into the hall. The doors shut behind him, locking with a loud _k-chunk._

Steve glares at the door, forcing himself to breathe deeply through his nose, in and out to diffuse his anger.

 

“I want to kill him.” Natasha hisses through the wall.

 

-+-

 

The next day, as promised, Steve is jerked awake by the sound of his door being pulled open. Two aliens enter, one holding a set of keys and the other holding a tray; Steve can tell from the smell wafting inside that it is piled with food. The alien holding the keys sets to work unlocking Steve’s wall chains, while the one holding the food crouches down near Steve and places the tray on the floor. It points to it, snarling out words in garbled English.

 

“ _Not yours,”_ it growls, before grabbing a small container off of the other tray and shaking it. It lifts its head to look at Steve. The super soldier can’t see the creature’s face through it’s mask, but he knows it is attempting to make eye contact.

 

“ _Other’s,”_ it warbles, pointedly shoving the container into the porridge-like substance on the tray and jerking its head in the direction Wanda’s cell.

 

Steve holds up his hands, feeling the other alien unlock the final chain tethering him to the wall.

 

“Okay, okay,” he says. “I’ll put whatever is in there into her food, I get it.”

 

The alien doesn’t appear to believe him because as it pulls away, it waves its hand threateningly over it’s wristband and snarls “ _We will know.”_

Steve waves his hands again in a placating gesture, standing up and stretching slightly. He cracks his neck, wincing. He can still feel the stone floor even through the thin mattress he had been given. Needless to say, it doesn’t make for a good night’s sleep.

 

He leans down and picks up the tray off the floor, and is led the short distance to Wanda’s cell, before being shoved inside and locked in. It suddenly occurs to Steve that he had never been inside a cell other than his own, and glances about curiously.

 

He notes that while it is basically the same size and shape, (no windows, tall walls, the metal bars at the top for prisoners to talk through), Wanda hadn’t been given a mattress. She doesn’t seem to care, though, and hasn’t even stirred from her spot on the stone floor that she is curled up on, despite the noise that Steve had made upon entering. Is she still sleeping?

 

When Steve walks closer to her, however, she opens one green eye to look at him, before closing it again and curling in on herself tighter.

 

“Do not pity me.” He hears her mutter.

 

Steve blinks, walking the rest of the short distance towards her and sitting across from her, cross legged.

 

“I don’t pity you. Quite the contrary, in fact.” Steve replies, setting the tray of food down and settling himself into a slightly more comfortable position (which still isn’t all that comfortable).

 

“I don’t need to read your mind to know that you do. I could see it on your face the moment you walked in.” She grumbles. He tilts his head at her.

 

“I have food for you,” Steve tells her instead, changing the conversation.

 

“I know.”  
  
“So are you going to sit up and eat it? Or are you just going to lie there feeling sorry for yourself?”

 

This gets Wanda to stir. She opens her eyes, glaring at him in the dark, before shifting herself slowly into an upright position. She leans against the wall, draped in her straightjacket of metal, watching him with irritation in her tired eyes.

 

Considering this a small victory, Steve pulls the tray closer to himself and plucks the container out of the goop, opening it to peer inside and view the contents. Inside there are a variety of pills, what looks to be a pestle and a note folded up. Steve pulls the note out and unfolds it, eyes quickly scanning the page.

 

‘ _Crush these up and add them to her_ _meal_ ’, it reads. Scrunching up the note, Steve tosses it behind him and begins crushing up the pills in the container with the pestle. He glances up at Wanda every once in a while, but she doesn’t seem to be paying attention. She looks lost somewhere else in her head.

 

Satisfied that the pills are crushed up enough, Steve tips the contents of the container into Wanda’s porridge and mixes it in, before lifting up a spoonful for her to take. She gazes at it with vacant eyes, but doesn’t move to eat any of it.

 

Finally, she murmurs sullenly: “Don’t bother. I’m going to die here anyway. Might as well hurry it along,” before sliding back down to the floor and turning her face away from Steve, hunching her shoulders, eyes downcast.

 

At her words, Steve’s patience runs out.

 

 “All right that’s it,” he snaps, throwing the spoon back down into the food and glaring at Wanda furiously.

 

Wanda’s gaze flickers back up to his, surprise tinging her green gaze.

 

“I’ve tried being patient,” Steve continues angrily. “I’ve let you carry out your little rebellion, and you know why? Because at least then you were fighting. And now you’re giving up?”

 

Wanda sits up slowly, never breaking eye contact as she rights herself. Her surprise is being wiped away by a flash of anger.

 

“I’m not giving up,” she hisses. “Don’t you see? They want us alive. I’m not going to help further whatever plans they have for us. I refuse to do anything for them. If that includes living, then… to hell with them! I’m not staying if they want me to. It’s the only thing left I can do.”

 

“You’re going to kill yourself out of spite.” Steve snaps harshly, letting a hint of disgust enter his voice, glaring at the young woman coldly.

 

“Out of necessity.” Wanda counters. “I can’t do anything by myself while I’m in these chains, you know. There’s no other way for me to go, nothing for me to do!”

 

Steve’s eyes narrow dangerously. “You’re suicidal. Ill tell the guards.” He threatens.

 

Wanda’s eyes narrow too in response. “You wouldn’t. And I’m not suicidal. I don’t WANT to kill myself. I just… don’t want to continue living if it means helping them.” She says defensively. “There’s a difference you know.”

 

“Well would you keep living if it meant helping me, then?” Steve counters. Wanda blinks at him in surprise at the change in conversation, her anger momentarily forgotten, but she shakes her head again quickly, narrowing her eyes into slits once more.

 

“We’re not getting out of here, Steve. At least, I’m certainly not. Do you see what they have me inside now? I can’t get out of these chains. I’ll never escape!” There is an edge of desperation in Wanda’s voice now.

 

Steve stares into Wanda’s eyes; he can see the fear, the pain, the anger, all swirling in her gaze and warring for dominance. He forces himself to take a deep breath, reigning in his temper and lowering his voice.

 

“Yes you will. We’ll find a way.” He assures her. She gazes back at him with hopeless eyes.

 

“How?”

 

Steve sighs, picking up the spoon from the porridge once more and mixing about the food again while he thinks over his answer. “You see, there’s a benefit to being able to walk around your cell and the courtyard, unsupervised.” He says quietly. “I can’t tell you anything now, but you have to trust me. We’ll get out of here. I just… need more time. And if you enable yourself to get out of these chains so you can join us, that would be great. You just have to _pretend_ that you’re… calming down a bit, is all. Do what they say. That’s how we got our privileges.”

 

Wanda purses her lips, eyeing him sceptically. “So you want me to play along with whatever they have planned for me until we escape? That’s it? Even if it is something bad that they make me do?” She asks doubtfully.

 

A wave of frustration and exasperation washes over Steve at her words. “They haven’t made us do anything _bad._ So will you at least just _pretend_ you’re wearing down a bit? It’s what I’ve wanted this whole time!” He takes another deep breath, lowering his voice once more. “Do you trust me?”

 

A faint smile graces Wanda’s features. “Of course I trust you, Steve.” She glances down at her feet. “I just don’t trust them. The reason I didn’t want to back down is so they wouldn’t have total control over me. I didn’t want to give up. Didn’t want it to even _seem_ like I was, even if I was just pretending.”

 

She blinks up at Steve, and he can see tears in her eyes. It’s almost strange, unnerving. It shouldn’t be, though. He’d heard her cry countless times in the past years, had seen it a few times as well. But it’s still unusual to see it this close, when she’s so fiery and defiant all the time, never letting the enemy know her weaknesses.

 

“It’s almost like an insult to everyone we lost, to give in,” she whispers. “If I can fight, I’ll fight for them. Until I die, I’ll fight for them.”

 

She inhales a deep, shuddering breath, squeezing her eyes shut. Steve puts a placating hand on her shoulder, attempting to comfort her.

 

“You’re not giving in,” he insists. “And you know… you’ll fight a lot better if you’re not starving.”  

 

The absurdity of his statement makes Wanda let out an involuntary bark of laughter. She smiles at him, more genuine this time. He holds up a spoonful for her to take. She accepts it, gaze flickering over to eye the door, as if expecting someone to burst in.

 

She swallows, turning her gaze back onto Steve. “We have another problem, Steve. They’re going to start drugging me as soon as my infection has healed.”

 

He gives her another mouthful with a blink, processing this information. “What?”

 

“I don’t know what they’re going to use, but… Adam, the doctor? You saw him? He said he’s going to start medicating me to make me more compliant. What do you think he means by that?”

 

Steve frowns. “But they’re already sedating you.”

 

Wanda cracks a small smile. “They know it isn’t working, Steve. They aren’t that stupid. They’re going to try something else. Something… stronger, I guess. And I think that means I’m not going to be any use in the long run to your plans.”

 

Steve continues to spoon feed her, mulling over this new information. Thankfully, her eyes brighten with each mouthful.

 

“Then… pretend the drugs are really strong. Really, taking effect you know? They won’t keep making you take drugs that aren’t needed. So… test the waters I guess. See what the drugs do to you for now, while they’re on lower dosages, and then faking the effects later on. If it means being super dopey and out of it… well…” he trails off. It sounds stupid now that he’s said it out loud.

 

Wanda smirks. “Sort of like faking being sick to get out of work?”

 

Steve gapes at her. “Why would anyone ever do that?”

The sombre mood that had settled over them previously had brightened considerably after that. As Steve fed her, his brain ran through ideas to get the two of them out of here. Feigning submission would only work for so long. An even shorter time with a girl like Wanda, he predicted, who would likely become irritable and impatient quickly. Toward the end of her meal, Steve began to slow down, before he stopped altogether, too lost in his thoughts to realise. Wanda blinked, looking up at him expectantly. Her gaze flicked between him and her nearly-but-not-quite-empty plate questioningly.

"What's wrong, Steve? Do you want me to feed myself now?" Wanda asked, a note of humour in her tone. When Steve didn't answer, she shifted in her chains, struggling to lift herself from the wall. "I'll just shove my face into it like a dog, then, shall I?"

Steve shook himself slightly, pulling himself from his thoughts. "Sorry," he said hurriedly, quickly lifting up another spoonful of mush for her before she could plant her face into the remains of the food. "I was just trying to find another way to get you out of these chains." He gestured to her fully bound body absently.

Wanda glanced down at herself, lips twitching into a frown. "We'll get out somehow," she murmured. "If I could get this collar off, I could break us out of here so easily..."

Steve huffed, reaching up to touch his own collar. "I don't think we can do that just yet. We have no idea how these even work. They might have some strange... anti-removal measures to them. For all we know, trying to get them off could kill us."

Wanda hummed, eyes glazing with thought. "Steve," she said slowly. "I had a dream."

"Oh?" Steve scraped the last bits of food onto the spoon, waiting for her to continue. 

"Yes. My brother was in it." She seemed reluctant to give details. "He was... well..." she trailed off.

"It's okay," Steve reassured her, lifting up the last spoonful. "I have dreams about people I miss sometimes too."

Wanda shook her head, pursing her lips and turning away from the food. "It wasn't like that. It seemed so... real. And his voice was so clear, it was like he was really talking to me. He said..." she swallowed and glanced over at Steve nervously. "He said he was coming for me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter, yes. I'm finding it a little difficult to find any motivation right now, any words of encouragement or kudos are appreciated! Thank you to everyone who has kudoed so far! You're the ones who really get me to write this story heh.

**Author's Note:**

> I KNOW I KNOW I'M AVOIDING WRITING MY OTHER TWO STORIES!!! I'VE GOT ANOTHER CHAPTER FOR SKOMO BUT IT'S A LITTLE BIT AHEAD AND I DONT KNOW HOW TO BRIDGE THE GAP! PLEASE FORGIVE! AND I'M HAVING TROUBLE WRITING FLUFF RIGHT NOW!
> 
> Anyway, that aside, anyone know why the aliens are called the Cerberus?
> 
> Leave a comment with your guess!


End file.
